Pride
by xBleedingBlackRosex
Summary: Kurt wants to show his pride...His pride for his sexuality, his boyfriend, and himself. He finally gets his chance, but when an unexpected guest stops by for a visit, Blaine has to remind Kurt of who he is as a person. Sequel to 'Steps to Sexy'. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Cure to Jealousy

**This is the sequel to my "Steps to Sexy," so it might be useful to read that one first. However, it's not necessary, so if you'd rather not don't worry about it. :) Anyway, read on and enjoy!**

…

Blaine loved Kurt.

He loved him, and he would be the first to admit that he was a little territorial when it came to his boyfriend. It was strange. He was not usually very possessive. He would let his friends use his things, walk into his room unannounced, and eat off his plate without batting an eye. But if another guy so much as _smiled_ at Kurt? His defenses went up.

He tried to hide this unappealing quality, of course. Whenever Kurt performed, he did his best to focus his attention solely on his boyfriend (not all that challenging, to be honest, when Kurt had hips like _those_) and ignore the stares around him that were not necessarily friendly, admiring stares, but rather hungry, dear-god-I-wish-he-wasn't-already-taken stares. And Blaine was an expert at spotting them. He'd even started to make a mental list of guys to watch out for. (Nick had been at the top of this list for months, and it was beginning to really get on his nerves). Blaine was taken aback at how many gays went to Dalton he had not known about, or more precisely the percentage of the homosexual student body that seemed to have the hots for Kurt and were only now letting those feelings show. _I mean, seriously, _he would often fume to himself after catching another boy practically drooling over his boyfriend. _Kurt was single for _months_ when he first came here! What, we become official and suddenly he's hot stuff? I knew he was hot stuff _way_ before them! And- Nick, stop accidentally-on-purpose touching Kurt's arm!_

Ever since Regionals, the Warblers had loosened up on their Blaine-focus. They starred Kurt much more, and allowed other members to have a few solos as well. Only last week, the Warblers had thrown an impromptu performance in the cafeteria, with Kurt leading in a deliciously suggestive cover of 'Everybody Loves Me,' by OneRepublic. The entire gay population in the room looked like they'd just quaffed the night away. The teachers present at the time had led it slide, seeing as how the Warblers were popular not only among the student body but among the faculty as well. The principal _loved_ them, mostly because of their fundraising performances that always raked in a hefty amount of money.

The students greatly enjoyed the show as well. The song was right; everybody _did_ love Kurt. He brought something new to the Warblers, something fun. For years upon years, Dalton's glee club had been all about the voice, never about the moves. When Kurt arrived, he taught them to break loose a bit, to incorporate more dancing as well as more variety in the solos. All this, on top of his newly-rediscovered 'sexy side,' propelled him to the top of the social ladder. It was a place he was entirely unfamiliar with. Not that he was complaining, of course.

But when Blaine glanced around the cafeteria and noticed how many eyes were glued to his boyfriend's ass, he was overcome with an unattractive feeling, something teetering between jealousy and anger. How _dare_ they look at Kurt that way? Sure, he did sometimes, too, but he was dating him; he had an excuse. What gave _them_ the right? This thinking, however, was entirely undapper and so un-Blaine that he repeatedly squashed these emotions. He just kept reminding himself who was Kurt's boyfriend.

Sometimes, though, he could not hold it in.

"I'm gonna kill him!" he ranted, arm wrapped firmly around Kurt's waist as they made their way to the parking lot, following Warbler practice. "I swear, if Nick winks at you one more time-"

Kurt laughed openly at his boyfriend's protective side. He was not annoyed by it as he might have been. In fact, he found it rather flattering and endearing. "_Relax_, Blaine, you know full well it's entirely one-sided."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Blaine pointed out.

Kurt, with one delicate finger on his chin, directed the displeased boy's face towards him. He smiled and pressed his lips against his, a tantalizing ghost of a kiss, before murmuring, "I'm yours. Just keep reminding yourself of that."

Blaine – who looked like a depraved puppy when Kurt drew away – chuckled to himself. "You're right...as usual." He sighed and opened the door for them as they stepped out into the nippy spring breeze. The snow was mostly melted, but the chill of winter lingered on in the air. "Still, you can't blame me. You're _far_ too sexy for your own good."

Kurt's eyebrow rose, curious and seductive at the same time. "Oh, is that so?"

"It's _so_ so!" he insisted, kissing that eyebrow.

Kurt waited until they were both in Blaine's car to speak what was on his mind. "Since you seem so hot and bothered about my performances being too..."

"Mouth-watering?" Blaine offered, receiving a playful smack on the shoulder and promptly bursting out laughing.

"Well, if you feel that way," Kurt continued, the mirth in his tone still evident, "why don't you sing one _with_ me, then? Since 'Animal' was a total disaster..." They both grinned at the memory of Kurt's temporary lack of sex appeal. They were both equally grateful it was in the past – Kurt, because he had returned to his regular, self-confident self, and Blaine, because he got to watch his boyfriend dance in _that way of his_ that always made his head fuzzy. "There's- There's a gay pride parade at Oberlin next week I thought we might go to."

"Are you serious?" Blaine risked a glance over to the brunette next to him. "I thought you hated things like gay pride parades?"

Kurt lifted his chin. "While I can't say I'm a huge fan of people wearing their sexualities on their sleeves, it's nice to know that we're not alone. And besides, what with losing at Regionals we hardly ever get to perform, apart from the impromptu ones around school!"

_Has he seriously not noticed how every gay kid in Dalton has been checking him out lately? Because we are _definitely_ not alone._ Blaine kept this to himself, however. Instead, he beamed as he pulled into the coffee shop's parking lot and said, "Well, I'm in! Got any ideas?"

He was busy maneuvering into a tight parking spot, so he missed Kurt's mischievous smirk.

"Oh, I've got a couple..."

…

**Oberlin College is a college (no duh, Ripple) in northern Ohio. It's extremely liberal and has a very strong lgbtq-support community :D It was the first Ohio college that came to mind when I was trying to figure out where the parade should take place :)**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	2. Chapter 2: Persuasion

**GAH! Took a while to update this one. My apologies!**

…

Kurt had standards.

He was demanding and sometimes a little high-maintenance, and he was not afraid to show it. If he disapproved of something, more than likely he was going to voice his opinion. While not as snobby nor as controlling as Rachel Berry, he definitely knew how to put his foot down. Back at McKinley, there was drama and attitude blowing up everywhere. Here at Dalton, however, Kurt could easily out-diva any of his fellow Warblers.

"Absolutely not!" he repeated yet again.

"Oh come on!" Blaine chided. "It's a great song!"

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Kurt scoffed, arms crossed across his chest. "It's _country_!"

"Don't judge!"

"Oh, I'm judgin', babe...I'm the conductor of the Judgement Train."

They were sitting next to each other on Blaine's bed, looking through sheet music. Although Kurt had a few ideas in mind already about what they should sing for the gay pride parade, they both agreed it would be a wise move to look through some other options in case they found something better. They had the lyrics to songs ranging from the latest Lady Gaga numbers to the oldest Beatles's all over the place.

"Then jump off and I'll catch you on my Magic Carpet of Acceptance. Just listen to it!" Blaine tried to coerce.

"No. Way. It'd just be a waste of time," Kurt insisted stubbornly.

But Blaine knew exactly how to deal with his boyfriend, and it was knowledge that he treasured deeply. In the past couple of months since they'd gotten together, Blaine had learned through experience exactly what made Kurt's defenses crumble, what swayed him. With the use of puppy-dog eyes, shopping spree bribes, and massages that _always_ turned into make-out sessions, Blaine had managed to get Kurt to do things he normally would have never even considered, including snowboarding, shopping in thrift stores, and eating both pizza _and_ ice cream in the same night.

So when Blaine turned on his signature pout, sidled up to Kurt and wrapped his arms around his waist, they both knew it was only a matter of time. "No!" Kurt repeated in a hopeless attempt to stay strong. Then Blaine kissed him, ever so gently, so sweetly, and Kurt's resistance melted along with his knees. It was a good thing they were already sitting down.

"Pretty please?" Blaine whispered. His warm breath ghosted over Kurt's skin.

"You're cheating," he accused lightheadedly, leaning in and continuing the kiss.

Blaine chuckled – Kurt, who had his hands on the older teen's chest, felt it as well as heard it – and said, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Kurt stole one last kiss before sighing dramatically and folding his arms. "Fine, fine. You win. Play it."

Blaine beamed at him. Leaping off the bed, he dashed to his iPod dock and quickly scrolled through his immense song collection until he found the one he was searching for. He hit play and turned to gage his boyfriend's reaction.

…

"So?" he asked eagerly as soon as the song had ended. "What'd you think?"

"I think..." Kurt got up slowly from the bed and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. "It's perfect."

"Really?" he pressed eagerly.

Kurt chuckled and planted another kiss on his lips. "Yes. Really." He slipped away and began to reorganize the explosion of paper scattered about the room. "Now I should be heading home. I've got to-" His phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped what he was doing and pulled it out, frowning slightly when he saw who the incoming call was from. Nevertheless, he answered it. "Dad? What's up?"

Blaine could hear indistinct mumbling from the other side of the line but could not make out any words. He moved about his room, finishing picking up the sheet music and repacking them away, keeping one eye on his boyfriend.

"What?...Are you _serious_?...That's great!...Yeah, of course...No, no, that's fine...Okay, I'm heading home right now. See you soon! Bye." He hung up, looking breathless and stunned, but in a good way.

"What was that about?" Blaine inquired.

"Grand-mère's coming!" the brunette announced exuberantly, throwing himself into Blaine's arms and practically squealing with excitement. "I haven't seen her in years! She lives in Paris. Last time she came was for my thirteenth birthday!"

"I didn't know that." Blaine had forgotten that he'd known Kurt for less than a year, and that there was still plenty he had to learn about his boyfriend. The prospect of this was extremely appealing. "That's great! I take it you like your grandmother?"

"Oh, she's incredible!"

"Tell me about her while I walk you to your car," he suggested. Kurt nodded vigorously and quickly gathered his things together. Blaine wrapped his arm around his waist as they headed out of the room and down the hallway towards the staircase.

"Grand-mère's amazing. She's always wearing the latest styles from France, but it's always very modest and proper. Showing ankles is considered inappropriate, in her opinion. And she looks good in anything! I really hope I can look as good as she does when I'm her age. And she's really pompous. But in the good way! I suppose you could call her uptight. She doesn't take any nonsense. She drives Dad _insane_." Kurt paused to chuckle a little.

"She sounds great," Blaine agreed, smiling to himself. He loved seeing his boyfriend so excited about something. He made a mental note to be as proper as possible when he met her – _if_ he met her. _I hope she approves of me..._

…

**Short chapter is short. Once again, I apologize :(**

**Also: I want a Magic Carpet of Acceptance. Like, really hard.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	3. Chapter 3: Madame's Arrival

**You get to meet Grand-mère! :D Hahaha I always picture a mix between Julie Andrews and Maggie Smith (Minerva McGonagall) when I picture Kurt's grandma...But feel free to picture her however you want in your own mind.**

**NOTE: Her name is not Madame Hummel, because she married an Englishman (named Hummel, obviously) but when he passed away she'd returned to her maiden name. Or at least, that's how it goes in my head!**

…

Kurt was prepared for her arrival.

He'd spent the weekend cleaning the house top to bottom. Burt and Carole had both lent a hand, but Finn did his part by staying out of the way. The kitchen was stocked with her favorite snacks, all the surfaces were dusted, the windows and mirrors were Windexed into oblivion, and there was not a speck of dirt on the floor. Kurt had made sure his typically clean room was particularly organized and neat. Then, just to be safe, he helped Finn with his own room. The football player and his mom were both bemused as to why Kurt's grandmother's arrival required such vigorous preparation. They would find out soon enough.

Her flight arrived at 3:42pm in the afternoon on Sunday. Burt had gone alone to pick her up from the airport.

Kurt heard the car pull into the driveway and dashed to the door. He paused in front of the foyer mirror, fixing his already perfect hair. He wore dark-wash skinny jeans, a black-and-red leather checkered belt, a white collared shirt, and a red vest. Finn, on the other hand, could be spotted jogging up the stairs in ripped jeans and a McKinley High gym t-shirt. He resisted calling after him to change his clothes while he was up there; he highly doubted there was anything Grand-mère-worthy in his closet anyway, and there was no way he'd fit into any of Kurt's things.

"-didn't tell me you had gotten a new house! Honestly, mon fils, you really _must_ keep me better updated on your life. I suppose I should be honored you took enough time out of your oh-so-busy schedule to send me a letter concerning your second marriage! If you'd given me more time I could have actually _attended_, of course..." Kurt beamed at the familiar French-accented voice coming from outside. With a grin, he reached out and opened the front door just as they stepped up to the porch.

She looked just as he remembered her. Her floor-length black skirt was elastic at her waist, falling in a waterfall of silky fabric over her long legs, black heels peeking out from underneath whenever she took a step. Tucked into the skirt was a loose silver blouse, on top of which hung a delicate gray cashmere shawl. Her thinning gray-brown locks were pulled up in a loose bun atop her head, her wrinkly-yet-unblemished face heavily coated in make-up, her wrists and neck ladened with expensive-looking jewels.

_How on _Earth_ did she get through airport security?_

Burt was a step behind her, ladened down with her numerous bags and looking exhausted. Nothing sapped him of energy like being around his mother, who took every opportunity she could to criticize him.

"Welcome, Grand-mère!" Kurt greeted brightly.

"Mon amour!" she cried, frown quickly dispersing at the sight of her grandson, throwing open her arms and striding forwards gracefully. "Oh, how I have missed you so!" She enveloped him in a crushing hug, her perfume thick and overwhelming.

"I've missed you, too!" he grinned, hugging her back much more gently for fear of snapping her fragile bones. "It's been years..."

"Well, if your father thought to invite me to the States more often, this would not be a problem." She winked at him as Burt struggled passed. Every time she came over, she would make it her mission to point out Burt's flaws, while at the same time praising Kurt for every little thing. Spoiling her grandson and picking on her son – it was just her way. He knew it was all an act – that she loved his father just as much as him – but he always enjoyed being her 'favorite Hummel.'

"Ah, welcome, welcome!" Carole came in from the kitchen and smiled politely. She wore nice black pants and an emerald green turtleneck, hand-picked by Kurt himself. "You must be Madame Morreaux. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

The elder woman raised a delicate eyebrow – quite like Kurt in that respect – but nevertheless took the proffered hand. Kurt could tell she was impressed. Burt had given Carole and Finn a rundown on his mother before she'd arrived. He explained how his father had been a fairly wealthy American businessman, and when he'd passed away his mother inherited his minor fortune and took on her maiden name once again. She waited until Burt was married and settled in Lima before moving back to her hometown of Paris and starting up a clothing store that had since gained a good deal of popularity and fame. She often joked that her 'little fortune' would skip Burt and go straight to Kurt. Then again, it was often difficult to tell if she was serious or not when it came to things like that.

"And you must be Carole." She gave a practiced smile that did not reach her eyes. "Charmed. And where is that son of yours I have heard nothing about?" She glared at Burt. He sighed heavily.

"I'm _sorry_, Maman!" he said for what was no doubt not the first time that day. "I promise I'll write to you more often."

"Yes, yes, of course, that is what you say every time I came to visit!" she chastised. A thin arm wrapped itself around Kurt's shoulder. He was pleased to find he'd grown since he'd last seem her; he was now almost eye-level with her. "Now, _Kurt_ here would _never_ be so disrespectful to his parent, now would you?"

"Never, Grand-mère," he beamed, playing along. His father glowered playfully at him. Even though he did not appreciate being the object of constant attack from the woman that'd birthed him, he was glad to see his son doted upon with just care. After his first wife had died, Kurt did not have a mother figure to talk to about all the emotional things in his life. It was an absence that Burt always deeply regretted.

"Mon fils, be a doll and make me a cup of coffee...I'm exhausted." The elegant old woman sighed and waved a dignified hand at her son, excusing him from the hallway. "And put my bags in my room. There _is_ a guest room in this new house of yours, I would assume?"

"Yes, Maman, it's down the hall." He struggled to remain civilized.

"I'll make the coffee," Carole immediately offered, hurrying off to the kitchen before her husband lost it.

"My, how lovely!" she beamed. "And, Kurt, mon amour, I would love to have a look at your closet! There is no doubt in my mind your collection has only improved since my last visit. Which reminds me, we simply _must_ go shopping sometime! My treat."

"Oh, yes, Grand-mère, that sounds marvelous!" He took her elbow and let her up the stairs to his bedroom, complaining animatedly about how limited the Lima Mall was and how dearly he wished he could live in Paris with her. She laughed and promised to send him some new scarves the moment she returned.

Kurt hadn't been this happy since he and Blaine had officially become boyfriend-boyfriend.

…

**I'm not going to pretend I'm a fluent French speaker. ;) lol so I apologize for any mistakes.**

**In the next chapter, shit's gonna hit the fan. (Which is one of the most disgusting metaphors I've ever heard, by the by. Just sayin'. Lol because who the hell keeps shit near fans?)**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	4. Chapter 4: Stiletto

**GAH. Once again, I apologize for such a long wait! I'm awful. *dies***

…

"You drive all this way every morning?" she asked incredulously, fussing with her already perfect make-up in her jewel-encrusted hand mirror. She sat in the passenger seat of Kurt's car, clad in a floor-length emerald dress and a translucent silky black shawl pinned with a large silver stone at the left shoulder.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. He wore his uniform, seeing as how it was Monday and he was heading to school, but he despised it more than usual this time. He wanted to show his grandmother how wonderful his sense of fashion was, and that was practically impossible to do in a prescribed outfit.

"Why do you not just board?" she pressed. "Dalton has the option, does it not? It would save you so much time, mon amour!"

"Yes," he repeated. "And most of the boys _do_ board. But we-...I mean, Dad and Carole, they..." But he couldn't say it. How was he supposed to tell his grandmother that her son had had to give up his own honeymoon just to send her only grandson to school, and still couldn't afford the cost of board? It was impossible to phrase that without angering her towards Burt.

But she seemed to guess the truth of the situation, nevertheless. "Well, this simply will not do! I shall have to talk to your school administration at once. The amount of money you spend on gas probably exceeds the amount board costs anyway. And wasting all this time in transportation cannot be healthy. No, it is decided," she added when she heard the beginnings of his protest, "I will not have any grandson of mine missing out on anything he wants! And you must want to get a proper night's sleep, do you not?"

"I do," he confessed gratefully. Waking up at such an ungodly hour every morning to go to school was taking its toll. "Merci beaucoup," he breathed, pulling into the parking lot and claiming a spot. He couldn't wait to find Blaine and tell him the good news.

He helped Madame Morreaux out of the car and into the main office building. The bell for classes to begin rang just as he got the visitor's pass for her. However, the dean, who had taken a noticeable liking to the elderly woman, excused Kurt from his first period in order to let him show her around campus. And so Kurt did just that. She was openly impressed with the architecture and décor. He showed her a couple of currently-empty classrooms. She asked all about his lessons and his teachers and what he thought of the school. It was marvelous.

When second period came around, he was forced to leave her. She assured him that she would be fine on her own for a while. He led her to the grand library and made sure she was settled down in the cozy alcove near the back before heading off to his class. Due to Kurt's transfer at such a strange time of the year, he was not able to be in any of Blaine's classes – not that he'd tried or anything; no, of course not – except music class. That was his last period, however. For now, he would have to endure his lessons in solitude until lunch came around.

…

He was out the door and hurrying towards the library before the bell had even finished ringing. He slowed when he neared the double doors; he did not want his hair to be messed up in front of his grandmother. He found her exactly where he'd left her. Her nose was deep in the book she was reading, ankles folded, sunlight streaming in through the window over her shoulder. She was the picturesque image of serenity.

"Grand-mère?" He spoke softly, so as to not startle her. Plus, it was the library, after all. She looked up from the novel and smiled so warmly at him he nearly swept her up and swung her around in a hug. But he refrained; such acts of affection would have probably upset her.

"Ah, mon amour, splendid!" She closed the book and set it aside on the coffee table. He offered his arm, and she took it gratefully. Her movements were getting stiff in her old age. "How were your morning classes? Did you learn plenty?"

"Oh yes, Grand-mère," he fibbed smoothly. "I hope you weren't bored during my absence?"

She laughed lightly at that, holding a delicate hand up to her mouth. "Kurt, you need not worry so much about me! I have lived long enough...A few hours in that lovely library was far from boring to me. It is nice to be able to relax once in a while. Where are we headed to now, may I ask?"

"Well, if you're up to it, I was thinking you might like to accompany me to my Warblers rehearsal?" he asked. "We have a lunch meeting today, and I thought it would be nice to introduce you to my friends..."

"That sounds wonderful," she assured. Then, after a pause, "The Warblers are the singing group you are in, _oui_?"

He nodded and slowed his pace. They'd reached the staircase. Madame Morreaux leaned on him heavily as she make her gradual ascent. "Show choir, yes. We're an a cappella group. I think you'll like it...We sound pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, Kurt, you are mon petit-fils! I have no doubt in the world you are magnificent." She patted his arm with her wrinkly hand, and he beamed at her. He'd forgotten just how wonderful it was to have her around. She was always so kind and generous and supportive of everything he did. If she lived closer he knew he'd be spoiled rotten. Not that he would have particularly minded, of course. In the long run, though, it was probably best that she lived in a different country. While Finn and Carole were able to _tolerate_ her, Burt practically blew a fuse every time she opened her mouth. Valid, this was because she was almost always opening her mouth in order to criticize him further.

When they reached the Warbler Hall, Kurt opened the door for her and allowed her to enter first. The Warblers that were already present – some nibbling on their lunches – looked up at the elder arrival in curiosity.

"Everybody, this is my grandmother, Madame Morreaux," he introduced proudly. "She's visiting all the way from Paris. Grand-mère, these are the Warblers, and my friends. Wes, David, Blaine, Thad, Jeff, Nick, Trent..." He went through introducing everyone who was already there, adding on names when new members walked through the door. They were all extremely polite and friendly to her. She was formal with them, as she always was with strangers, but he could see her quickly softening towards them. It made his heart soar with joy.

Blaine saw this and smiled. He loved seeing Kurt so ecstatic about something.

"Alright, we really must start the rehearsal now," Wes announced apologetically. Kurt led his grandmother to a chair in the corner, where she willingly sank down and silently gestured for him to join the group. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried to his spot next to Blaine. The Warblers knew instinctively to leave that place open for him. "Now, we have a nursing home performance coming up next week, so we will need to run through our numbers a couple more times to make sure it is appropriate for our audience. Places, places!"

…

Madame Morreaux remained seated throughout the practice. She smiled warmly when it was finished, only fifteen minutes into the lunch break, and reached out a hand for Kurt to take. He did so eagerly.

"That was lovely, mon amour," she gushed. "I truly enjoyed it! You have the voice of _un ange_...You simply _must_ sing something for me during my stay. My own private show! I cannot believe I have lived this long not knowing my own grandson's talent. It is a shame."

"Merci beaucoup, Grand-mère!" he blushed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it..."

Blaine came up, standing a respectful distance away from them. "My apologies, Madame Morreaux, but if I might steal Kurt away for a moment...?"

"Yes, of course," she smiled, letting go of his hand.

"Thank you." Blaine nodded politely and led Kurt a little ways away. The younger boy was still grinning unstoppably. It was infectious. "When should we start practicing? The parade's in only five days...We really need to get our act together."

"Oh my goodness, you're right!" He slapped a hand to his forehead, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. "I totally forgot...Grand-mère's arrival out of the blue completely blew it from my mind. I'm so sorry, Blaine."

He chuckled. It was impossible to get mad at him for it when he was clearly so happy to see his grandmother. "Don't worry about it. I don't blame you. But when do you think...?"

"Um, let's see...Grand-mère isn't leaving until Saturday, so it can't wait until after her departure..." He flashed an apologetic smile. "But I suppose I can just stay after school for the next few days? That should be fine. Your room, or the Warbler Hall?"

"The Warbler Hall," he suggested.

"Sounds good."

"What's going on here after school?" Nick slid into their conversation rather unwelcomely. His arm brushed Kurt's in a faux-accidental way that was not overlooked by the dark-haired Warbler. Blaine tried to mask his glare. This guy simply couldn't take a hint that Kurt was no longer on the market, could he?

"It's nothing," Kurt sighed. "We're doing an off-campus performance together in a few days. It doesn't concern you."

"Ouch!" Nick placed a hand over his heart, pretending he just got stabbed by Kurt's words. Blaine rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy be interested in what his friends are doing?"

_You want to be way more than friends, though_, Blaine fumed internally.

"Well, if you _must_ know," Kurt practically snapped – he could sense Blaine's frustration, and it was wearing off on him. "Blaine and I are singing together at the gay pride parade at Oberlin on Friday." Noticing the hurt in Nick's eyes, he couldn't help but add, "You're welcome to come watch. We'll be going on at two."

"Oh, I'll be there!" he promised. Blaine swore mentally; he'd been hoping Nick would be too torn up about this obvious evidence of their relationship status to attend. Clearly Nick was either extremely determined or extremely stupid. Or both.

But then a voice from behind them blew all thoughts of Nick's idiocy out of Blaine's mind.

"KURT ELIZABETH HUMMEL!"

The room fell silent at this outburst. Madame Morreaux had risen from her chair, eyes ablaze, jaw quivering. Many boys sank back a little from this frightening sight. For such an elderly woman, she really knew how to conduct a room's attention.

"Y-Yes, Grand-mère?" he asked, voice timid and a little more high-pitched than usual in his confusion and worry.

"_Tell me_ you're not gay..._Tell me_ my grandson is not a _tapette_!"

Kurt froze in pure terror. Never before had he heard her use such language. That word cut him deep, deeper than anything. 'Tapette' did not mean male, or brunette, or singer. He could have answered yes to those easily without a moment's hesitation. But that wasn't what she was asking. It wasn't what she meant.

It meant 'fag.'

"I-..." Kurt looked between his grandmother and his boyfriend, panicked. Blaine looked pretty scared himself, waiting speechlessly to see what he would do. And Madame Morreaux, she looked...she looked old. Older than she'd ever looked before. The wrinkles in her skin and the gray of her hair had ever been so distinguished than right then. Despite her overpowering fury, she looked so delicate, so weak. But he could not lie to her. He loved her too much for that. Even if it hurt her, he just couldn't. Blaine meant too much to him. He had promised himself long ago to never be ashamed of who he was and who he was with.

"Grand-mère...I-...I'm sorry, but-"

He wasn't able to finish, however. A speeding projectile cut him off, which he dodged just in time to save his face from being punctured by the stiletto. It instead clattered loudly against the back wall. Many of the Warblers flinched and moved away.

"YOU ARE A _DISGRACE_! NO GRANDSON OF _MINE_ WILL BE A _TAPETTE_! I thought you were raised _right_! I thought you were _proper_! But you...YOU _DISGUST_ ME!"

The second shoe came hurtling across the room, and Kurt flung his arms up in self-defense, the heel catching his elbow with a sickly hollow thump. He hardly even processed it, though. All he could hear were her words, coated in anger, in betrayal, as if he'd just told her he was not, in fact, her blood kin. He might as well have from the look she was giving him. Pieces of hair falling out of her bun and around her livid face, she stormed as fast as her ancient body could carry her to the door. The Warblers quickly moved aside. Nobody dared get in her way.

"Grand-mère, please..." he begged quietly. His voice cracked. But it was heard throughout the silent room with perfect clarity.

She hesitated at the door to address him one last time. Her misty blue eyes filled with tears. "I-...I cannot look at you anymore..."

And with that, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but those painful black stilettos, and a suffocating aroma of perfume and rejection.

…

**POOR KURTSIE! I abuse him so much. Why, you ask? Because I'm an awful human being. *nod nod* It's hard for me to write homophobic things, though...I always get so irritated and then I take a break and it never ends up getting finished. So I'm proud of myself for finally getting this up. Grand-mère needs to go die in a hole now. Yes? Yes.**

**P.S. I love how I subconsciously make Kurt speak much more formally and old-age-y around his grandma. It just seems like something he'd do, I guess.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	5. Chapter 5: Comfort

**It really sucks that I made Kurt's grandma such a twatface. Because if she wasn't so homophobic she'd be like my ideal great-grandma. Not grandma – my ideal grandma bakes me cookies and tells me awesome stories about her wild childhood – but great-grandma, definitely. I guess that's my own fault for making her so bleepity-bleep-bleep. But I promise it'll get better eventually.**

**EDIT: Wow guys...I was touched by how many reviews and pm's I got from people ranting about how much they hated grand-mère now! I mean yes, I hate her too, with a fiery passion, but I'm really glad there are so many of you that are so supportive of homosexuality :) It makes writing this fic way easier for me.**

…

"G-Grand-mère...?"

Kurt's voice wavered. His vision blurred. A hand reached subconsciously towards the door, as if desperately trying to draw back the grandmother that had just left him. But she was long gone. And he would not get her back.

"Oh Kurt..." Blaine needn't say more. He drew him close and wrapped his arms around him and just held him. It was all he could do. Shock, sympathy, and anger all overwhelmed him. _How could she say that? How could anybody yell at Kurt like that? How could someone ever hate such a wonderful, caring, amazing person like Kurt?_ But he said nothing. Kurt needed him to be the calm, collected one. And when he felt the sobs begin to rip through Kurt's chest, Blaine knew his boyfriend needed some privacy as well. "Come on, Kurt...Let's go." He led him towards the door. None of the Warblers protested. A couple of them looked like they wanted to say something to Kurt, but it was probably best they didn't. Nick gathered up the shoes and timidly handed them over, guilt etched into his features. Kurt took them robotically. He was not aware of his surroundings at all.

Blaine took him to his dorm room. The moment the door closed, Kurt burst into tears. It wasn't just crying...He sounded like he as _dying_. His breath came in forced, desperate gasps, his knees gave out, a hand clutched at his chest. And all Blaine could do was gather him up in his arms once more and wait it out. He wanted to tell him "it's all going to be okay" or "she'll come around" or even "at least you have me." But nothing would be appropriate. Nothing would be effective. Kurt had just lost all respect and love of his favorite grandparent. What could anybody say to fix something like that?

Blaine began to tear up too, but he quickly blinked them back. He did not deserve to cry. He was practically the reason that Madame Morreaux found out Kurt was gay. _No_, he realized. _It was Nick. Nick was the one that made Kurt say it out loud, say that we would be singing together. _But he found he couldn't be mad at him, despite how much he despised the guy already. How could he? Nick was gay too. They were all in the same boat. They would all be treated as _different_, as _freaks_, as _outsiders_. But to get that treatment from the relative he looked up to the most...Blaine could not even imagine.

Time passed strangely in that room. Sometimes Blaine was sure only a few minutes had gone by; at others he was confident it was nearing an hour. Not that it mattered. But at some point, Kurt seemed to run out of tears. The flow from his eyes lessened, the interval between sobs began to increase.

"Sh-She gave me my first scarf," Kurt finally whispered. His voice was rough, deep, completely un-Kurt. He sniffed. Blaine reached up to his bedside table and handed him the box of Kleenex. "Sh-She gave it to me for my fifth birthday. D-Dad thought it was inappropriate. But I loved it."

Blaine simply continued to rub his back.

"Sh-She offered to pay for me to board here, you know." His lips twitched up in a mockery of a smile. "I guess that isn't going to be happening anymore..."

"That's alright," he tried to assure positively. "That's okay! It doesn't matter."

"Y-Your dad doesn't approve of you being gay either, right?" Kurt asked.

Blaine blinked, surprised. "Well, I mean, not really, but it's nothing like...like that." He didn't want Kurt to worry about him, too. "He's not openly against it or anything. He just sort of ignores it, and as long as I don't bring it up everything's fine. We only ever talked about it twice – once when I came out, and then when I told him you were my boyfriend. Apart from that..." He shrugged. Compared to what had just gone down in the Warbler Hall, his familial situation looked _awesome_. And that killed him inside. He had always assumed, from the relationship between Kurt and his father, that everyone from the Hummel family accepted his homosexuality. Obviously he'd been thoroughly mistaken.

"I- I hate it."

"You hate what?" _He hates being gay? He hates being with me?_

Kurt looked up at him. His eyes, still filled with tears, sparked with passion. "I hate homophobia. I _hate_ it. I just- I don't understand! _Why_ does it make us so unacceptable? Why does being gay suddenly make me someone else? I'm still Kurt! I'm still her grandson! Just because I like other guys doesn't make me inhuman or a pervert!"

"Kurt, I know..." Blaine pressed a gentle kiss on his temple. Kurt buried his face once again into his already-tear-stained chest. The older Warbler picked up his soothing massaging again. "I know, babe...You don't need to tell me...But...Maybe you need to tell your grandmother." Kurt's head whipped up, narrowly avoiding smashing his skull into Blaine's chin. "It seems like she needs to learn that."

He chuckled darkly. "She won't listen to me anymore." He shook his head vigorously, biting his lip to keep from breaking down all over again. "Y-You heard her. I- I'm dead to her."

"I think she just needs time," Blaine advised. "But, Kurt, she's loved you for seventeen years. I don't think that's all just going to be thrown out the window because of your sexuality. Just...Just try and talk to her before she leaves."

He nodded slowly. "I...I should head home. Dad will probably want to talk about this as soon as possible."

"Do you need me to drive you?" he offered, helping him to his feet.

"No, I'll be fine. You go to class." He kissed Blaine, a soft, purposeful kiss, full of unspoken emotion. He loved Blaine. He needed him. And he needed him to know that. This wasn't going to change how he felt about him one bit.

Blaine waited until Kurt was in his car, and he was leaning through the window, to ask what he wanted to ask. He didn't wish to be insensitive. But he was curious. "So are we still going to sing? At the parade?"

Kurt looked at him. His eyebrows drew together in his perfected don't-be-silly expression. "Yes, Blaine. We will. We're going to sing, and it's going to be amazing, and nothing is going to get in the way of that. Got it?"

Blaine was almost scared of how indisputable his tone was. It was forceful and factual. It would have probably been suicidal to argue with him. Not that he had any intention of doing so. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He kissed him swiftly once more and stood there in the parking lot, arms folded against the cold, staring after Kurt's car long after it had disappeared onto the main street. He worried for his boyfriend. He'd always known there would be people who disapproved of their sexual orientation, or at least their acting upon it. But he had assumed these homophobes would be strangers, people they could ignore, people they could avoid. Even in his worst nightmares he'd never imagined that something like this could happen to one of them. He almost wished it had been his own grandmother instead. Seeing Kurt so torn up, so weak and hurt, really got to him. He never, ever wanted to see that again. He wanted that happy, confident, careless Kurt back. And he was willing to do anything it took to fight the frowns and bring back the smiles.

_But how?_

…

When Kurt arrived home, his grandmother was already there, having taken a taxi all the way back. She sat by the fireplace, ankles crossed, dress spilling over the chair, teacup perched daintily in her hands. To an outsider, there was absolutely nothing wrong. Nobody would be able to guess that, a couple hours ago, she'd thrown a stiletto at her grandson's head.

"Grand-mère?" Kurt's voice was unnaturally high. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I- I'm home..."

"I see that." Her tone was curt, her eyes never leaving the window across the room. "I apologize for my inappropriate act of violence earlier. It was unbecoming of me." But she did not sound sorry one bit. She sounded monotonous, as if reading from a script, without any real feeling. His throat constricted. He was not sure if he liked the yelling version or this bottled, distant grandmother better. Both were heartbreaking.

"It's alright," he muttered, placing her heels by her slipper-clad feet. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Do you-...Do you think we could talk about this?"

She finally looked at him. Her eyes pierced him, almost physically painful. If looks could kill, Kurt would be on the floor bleeding in a heartbeat. "There is nothing to talk about. Do you not have homework to do?"

"I...Yes..." Turning away to hide the fresh tears forming in his eyes, he hurried up the stairs to his bedroom. The door closed sharply behind him, his bag was tossed carelessly by his desk, and he threw himself onto his neatly made bed. He just couldn't stand it. His grandmother had done nothing but spoil him his entire life, praising him for everything he did and encouraging him to do whatever his heart desired. Did that not apply to relationships? Was it all a lie? Did being gay really change her view of him so much? He supposed he should have been grateful – at least she was talking to him again – but it still felt like his chest was being torn apart from within.

_What am I going to do now?_

…

**Poor Kurtsie! It was upsetting writing this chapter...*whips out the tissues* How was it? Did you tear up? I've never written a homophobic OC before, and I totally don't like it! Haha this probably won't be a reoccurring thing...It makes me grumble and mumble and other discontented things that rhyme with umble...In the next few chapters we're gonna deal with the grandma situation and finally draw up to the parade!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	6. Chapter 6: Here for the Party

**New chapter? Yes? *perks head up expectantly***

…

At the dinner table that night, it did not take a genius to know something was wrong. Madame Morreaux was not fawning over Kurt, and only managed one weak your-life-is-pathetic comment towards Burt the entire meal. Carole pursed her lips and glanced between them, but had the decency not to mention it. Finn, on the other hand, was not as quick on the update.

"Dude, did something happen at school today?" he asked, mouth full of mashed potato. Kurt made eye contact with his grandmother over the table's centerpiece. It was in that silent exchange they both agreed not to say anything. Kurt knew Burt would fly off the handle if he heard what had happened, and he did not want him to have another heart attack or anything.

"No, Finn," he lied smoothly. "And you? What happened at McKinley?"

"Oh, um, well..." He struggled to remember. He ended up mumbling some unimportant updates about the relationships within New Directions – Kurt either already knew or did not care enough – and returned to his food. Kurt sighed lightly. The food was tasteless on his tongue. He wanted to retire to his bedroom and dream of the times when his grandmother still loved him. Those times seemed ages upon ages ago.

"Alright, I give up." Burt finally set his silverware down, looking between the two of them expectantly, if not a little frustratedly. "What's going on? Maman, did you not like Dalton or something?"

"Dalton Academy is a wonderful school," she denied calmly. "It was beautiful, and the library was extensive. I have nothing against it at all."

"Then what the hell happened?" he pressed.

"_Language_, mon fils," she snapped. He clenched his jaw, but managed to hold back a sharp retort.

Kurt spoke up quickly. "It's nothing, Dad. I'm sure Grand-mère is just tired. She had to get up at a very early hour, after all, and I would assume the time difference only makes that worse." He glanced at the elderly woman. "Isn't that right?"

She did not look at him. Her eyes were fixed steadily on her plate. But Burt seemed to accept this answer, at least for the moment. He sat back in his chair and picked up his fork and knife once more. Kurt desperately wanted to tell him what had happened. Yet he refrained. He would _not_ be the cause of any further family feud between his father and his grandmother. This was not his dad's battle to fight.

…

The next day dawned far too brightly. The sun seemed to mock Kurt. How could anything be so bright when he felt so dark inside? He debated just staying in bed. But that would mean spending the day trapped in the same house as their guest. And he wasn't sure he would be able to survive that. So he dragged himself out of bed and over to his closet. For once, he did not mind wearing the uniform; for once, he did not care what he put on; for once, fashion was not at the front of his consciousness.

When he arrived at school, Blaine was there at the door waiting for him. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was good to know there was somebody who still loved him. He walked towards him, but when he drew closer he couldn't help but break into a run, all but flinging himself into Blaine's arms soon as he'd reached him. The lead soloist was ready for him. He spun Kurt around once, twice, holding onto him tightly.

"Morning," Kurt breathed, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes.

"Morning," he returned with a grin. Then, gently, "How are you holding up?"

Kurt shook his head. They interlocked their fingers and made their way indoors. "I'd rather just not think about it, honestly. If I do I might start crying again, and I can't afford to do that during classes."

Blaine's eyebrows drew together in worry. But he respected his boyfriend's wish and said nothing more on the matter. Instead, they talked about other things – everything and anything – and to his relief Kurt was quick to return to his regular, cheerful self. He was impressed with how fast he'd been able to bounce back. _If that'd been me, I would have been moping for weeks on end...I _definitely_ wouldn't have come to school today...But I guess that just shows how much stronger Kurt is than me._

Whenever Kurt passed a fellow Warbler in the hallway, he caught their sympathetic glances, and he did his best to ignore them. He knew they had the best intentions, but he did not want their pity. He wanted them to forget about it. It was his problem, not theirs.

What he needed was a distraction. And that distraction manifested itself in his and Blaine's upcoming performance. They had four days to prepare. He put his all into perfecting their routine. They met immediately after school, and Blaine was at first blown away by how much energy Kurt put into it.

_Well I'm an eight ball shooting double fisted drinking son of a gun_

_I wear my jeans a little tight_

_Just to watch the little boys come undone_

_I'm here for the beer and the ball busting band_

_Gonna get a little crazy just because I can_

Blaine, for the first time in a long while, had trouble keeping up, too distracted as he was by the way Kurt's hips were enticing him. There was no way that was legal. Nobody should be able to move like that. It was totally unfair.

_You know I'm here for the party_

_And I ain't leavin' till they throw me out_

_Gonna have a little fun, gonna get me some_

_You know I'm here, I'm here for the party_

Kurt moved about the room in such a seductive, suggestive way that Blaine couldn't look away, even if he tried. He struggled to keep his voice from wavering with suppressed lust.

_I may not be a ten but the boys say i clean up good_

_And if i gave em half a chance for some rowdy romance you know they would_

_Ive been waiting all week just to have a good time_

_So bring on them cowboys and their pick up lines_

_You know I'm here for the party_

_And I ain't leavin' till they throw me out_

_Gonna have a little fun, gonna get me some_

_You know I'm here, I'm here for the party_

By the time the chorus came around for the second time, however, Blaine finally got over his initial spell enough to really listen to him, to really see him. And he was taken aback. Kurt was doing wonderfully, it was true, but it wasn't..._him_. He didn't have the same raw passion in his voice, that undercurrent of joy that came from singing, from performing. Kurt did not rise to the top of the social ladder at Dalton because he was attractive – although he was indeed that – but rather because he enjoyed what he did, and made sure everybody knew it. He sang from the heart, he moved from the soul.

And this...As breathtaking and deliciously promiscuous as it was, was not the true Kurt. It was forced. And Blaine did not like that.

"Hey, Kurt...?" he began tentatively when they'd run through it for the third time.

"Yeah?" Kurt took a long drink from his water bottle. His cheeks were flushed from the exertion, but he seemed satisfied enough.

Blaine bit his lip, not sure whether he should say it. _Just go for it_, he told himself. _He's your boyfriend. He'll understand._ "Are you-...Are you sure this is the right song to sing?"

Kurt blinked at him. "What?"

"Do you think maybe we should choose a different song?" he rephrased.

Kurt didn't understand. "_You_ chose 'Here for the Party,' Blaine. _You're_ the one that begged me to do this."

"No, I know," he backtracked quickly, sensing danger. "I think it sounds great! Really! It's just- I don't know, you don't seem..." But he trailed off hopelessly. Kurt was staring at him unwaveringly. There was no room for compromise in those eyes. They would be doing Gretchen Wilson. No questions asked. It was a lost cause. He sighed. "Never mind. Sorry."

Kurt raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but said nothing. He could tell he was losing patience, and fast, and he needed to get home before he let it out on Blaine. He kissed him swiftly on the cheek and headed out the door to the parking lot. Blaine watched him go, frowning distinctly at the retreating figure he knew so well. He wanted to help Kurt. It was clear to him Kurt was no longer dealing with the situation with his grandmother, but instead ignoring it in the hopes it would go away. But it wouldn't. Kurt _needed_ to face this. He needed to reinstate his confidence in himself and in his sexuality. And not just for the parade. For himself.

And Blaine was beginning to think he was going to have to step in and help the situation along.

…

**And he shall! He's gonna do something kinda...*cough* ****_uncouth_**** in the next chapter...So, are they going to stick with 'Here for the Party'? Which is an AWESOME song, bee tee dubs. What is Blaine up to? How does the parade go? Ooooh, so much drama! *annoying I-know-what's-gonna-happen-and-you-don't author giggle***

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	7. Chapter 7: The Talk

**Blaine! What are you doing? This chapter is, like, über-long (the longest I've ever written), which will hopefully make up for the irregular updating I've been doing lately. I'm such a poop-face. I know :( Wrote this at a VERY unhealthy hour of the night/morning, so it's probably not my greatest work. Forgive me. Hahaha but anyway, read on!**

**ALSO: If Finn and Puck were gay for each other, would they be Pinn or Fuck? This question haunts me...**

…

_How did I get here?_

Blaine found himself on the doorstep to the Hummel-Hudson household, finger hovering over the doorbell and frozen to the spot. He had driven the two hours it took to get to Kurt's house without a doubt in his mind, but now he was seriously debating leaping in his car and just returning to Dalton.

_No. You have to do this!_ he scolded himself. _Get it together, Blaine._

He rang the doorbell. He felt like he was summoning his own doom in doing so. There was a torturous wait, and then the door swung open. Carole stood there, a little surprised to see him but clearly not annoyed by the unexpected arrival.

"Oh, Blaine, hello!" she greeted. "I'm sorry, Kurt's not here right now..."

"I know," he assured quickly, smiling politely. He had texted Kurt right after school (they had both agreed that there was no real need to practice 'Here for the Party' another time) to ask him what his evening plans were and found out that the brunette would be going to the mall with Mercedes. He knew very well how many hours Kurt spent at the mall; he could say with confidence that the fashionista would not be home until well after dinner. He took this as his chance. "I was actually wondering if I might be able to speak with Madame Morreaux?"

Carole's confusion increased. "I- um, yeah, sure! Come on in. She's in the living room." She opened the door wider and allowed him passage into the house. He nodded in thanks and made his way down the hallway. Carole followed, clearly still a little frazzled. They both paused in the doorway. Kurt's grandmother was sitting in one of the plush chairs by the fireplace, reading a book. "Madame Morreaux? You have a visitor."

She looked up from the novel and fixed that piercing gaze on Blaine. He prayed his nerves did not show on his face. But he was determined; he would not leave until he talked with her. Apparently, this unyielding quality of his persona showed on his face, because she did not send him away as he'd been worried she would. Instead, she sighed delicately and set the book down on the coffee table.

"Carole, would you be a dear and fetch us some tea?" she asked with faux-politeness.

"Yes, of course," the woman agreed quickly, hurrying off to the kitchen. Blaine did not move. Kurt's grandmother studied him for an immeasurable amount of time, arms on the armrests, ankles crossed, blue eyes boring into his very soul, making him feel naked and exposed.

"Sit," she finally commanded. He crossed to the couch opposite her and sank down stiffly. He was not entirely sure how to go about this. How was one supposed to act with the woman who he'd witnessed two days previously throwing stilettos at his boyfriend? Before he could come up with something to say, though, she spoke up again. "You are Kurt's friend, correct?"

"I- yes." He decided not to correct her.

She nodded knowingly. "You are his...his _boyfriend_, yes?" She said 'boyfriend' the same way Kurt would say 'off the rack.'

He did his best to not let his offense leak into his voice. He was there to enlighten her, after all, not to yell at her. "Yes, that's right." He saw the pursing of her lips, clearly holding back an improper response. He leaned forward. "Look, I realize that this news came as a shock to you, but I must say, before anything else, that the way you reacted the other day was entirely inappropriate."

Her gaze turned icy. "Not that it is any of your business, but I have already apologized to Kurt concerning that."

"But have you apologized for your treatment of him?" Blaine pressed. He already knew the answer was 'no.' "Have you apologized for the tears you've made him cry? Have you apologized for rejecting him, even though he's done absolutely nothing wrong?"

He was afraid she was going to chew him out, but thankfully Carole returned just then with a tea tray. The room was unnervingly silent as she set it down on the coffee table between them. She sensed the tension and looked between them.

"Is- Is there anything else you need?" she asked.

"No. Thank you," Madame Morreaux snipped. Carole glanced to Blaine. He forced a reassuring smile, and she retreated out of the room. Blaine waited until the elderly woman took a sip of her tea before speaking once more.

"Look, Madame, I mean no offense." He held his hands up in the sign of innocence and peace. "But I care deeply for your grandson, and I hate to see him so torn up about this. He _really_ looks up to you. Did you know that? You're like his idol."

Her eyes drifted to the window behind him. "Yes..." she murmured after a while. "I know that."

There was a spark of hope. "What was it exactly that made you so furious about Kurt's sexuality?"

She scoffed. "I do not need to tell you anything. You have no part in this."

He took a deep breath to keep himself calm. "Seeing as how I'm currently dating your grandson" – at this, Madame Morreaux made a tiny cough of disapproval – "I believe I _am_ indeed 'part of this.' Since you won't talk to Kurt directly about it, I felt that I had to try and confront you myself." He leaned back on the couch. "So? Why are you so against Kurt dating me?"

She glared at the coffee table as she took a slow drink from her cup. "He..." she finally began. "He is no longer the petit-fils I knew...I cannot look at him the same way anymore, knowing that he has chosen this disgraceful life style."

"Being gay is _not_ a choice," Blaine corrected firmly. "Why would anybody _choose_ to be discriminated against and hated? It's just part of who you are, the same way being blonde or being Chinese is part of who you are. It's not voluntary. And it's not a _condition_, it's not something that you can _cure_."

There was a pause in the conversation. Although Madame Morreaux did not look particularly reassured, Blaine was pleased to see the contemplative expression on her face. She was clearly taking his words into genuine consideration. It was progress.

"But...But why must this happen to me? What did I do to deserve a-...a _homosexual_ in the family?" The word was hissed in the same tone as 'boyfriend' had been.

"He's still your grandson!" He had to resist leaping to his feet and shouting at her. Her intolerance was thoroughly infuriating. "He's still _Kurt._ What does it matter the gender of the people he dates? It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!" she cried. Her own voice was rising. Their tea was left forgotten on the table. "Don't you realize what this means? The Hummel line is over now thanks to him! I'll never have great-grandkids, and I'll never get to see my grandson's marriage, and..." She broke down in tears. "Oh god, what did I do wrong?" Blaine blinked at her, mouth open in shock. He had the conflicting urges to comfort the decrepit woman and hit her, but he held his ground. She had to learn. She had to understand.

"Madame Morreaux, it's not like that..." His voice was much lower, gentler. "If Kurt wishes to have children in the future, then there's always surrogate mothers. And adoption. And I'll have you know that gay marriage is legal in some states, like Iowa and Massachusetts and New York. It is very possible that you _will_ still be able to attend his wedding. The only difference is that there will be another groom instead of a bride."

Her crying gradually subsided. "This...This is true?"

"Yes."

And then they both jumped a little when they heard the door slam shut. Kurt's musical voice carried his 'I'm home!' throughout the house. Blaine froze. He had not expected the brunette home so soon. Both of them turned to the doorway, where Kurt soon appeared, cheeks flushed from the chill outside and a smile still lingering on his face from his shopping spree with Mercedes. But that smile quickly faded when he spotted his boyfriend, talking to his homophobic grandmother.

"B-Blaine?" he breathed. "Wh- What are you doing here?"

"I came over to have a little chat with Madame Morreaux," he explained smoothly. He glanced towards the elderly woman. She brushed her graying hair back serenely. Kurt waited nervously for her to say something. He expected her to ask him, in a cold monotone, to escort Blaine out of the house.

But he was surprised by what she said instead. "Mon amour...Would you join us for a moment?"

"I- Yes, of course." He quickly crossed the room and sank down next to Blaine, making sure there was no physical contact between them. He did not want to push his luck. Although she'd used 'mon amour' with him, he was still hesitant.

"Your petit ami has been telling me about your...your..." She struggled for a moment to remember the English word. Or perhaps she was just uncomfortable saying it. "Sexuality." Kurt tensed. Blaine felt it, despite the fact they were not even touching. "He is...He has put many new thoughts in my mind."

Kurt frowned, not sure he was understanding. Her imperfect grasp of the English language might have been impeding her true meaning. "New thoughts? What do you mean?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "He spoke of...of ways to get around problems with your condi-" She cut herself off, eyes flickering towards Blaine, and corrected herself with "your sexuality."

"Problems?" His gaze fell sadly to his knees, and he murmured, "I'm sorry if you find my sexual orientation to be a _problem_ for you, Grand-mère. But I'm afraid it's not something you can fix."

She stared at him for a long moment. "Are you _sure_?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. Blaine's fingernails dug into his knees to keep his emotions under control. "Are you sure there is not some way to...to...get rid of this- this-"

"It's not a disease," Blaine reminded evenly. Kurt shook his head in agreement.

Madame Morreaux looked between the two of them, then sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, a hand rising to massage a temple delicately. "Very well. If you are sure..."

Kurt took Blaine's hand pointedly. "I'm sure."

Blaine grinned at him warmly. His fingers entwined with Kurt's, reassuring him that he was there for him. The younger boy flashed a thankful smile back.

"So tell me..." The elderly woman forced a small smile at the two of them, clearly struggling to come off as accepting, when they all knew she was still far from it. "If you were to get married, mon amour, would you keep the Hummel name?"

"I- _What_?" Kurt's face instantly began to heat up. Talk of marriage had been far from his list of things he expected his grandmother to discuss. "Is- Isn't it a little early to be thinking of that sort of thing? I'm only seventeen!"

"Nonsense," she defended nonchalantly. "It's never too early to start thinking about such things."

"I, well, um...I guess I'd talk with my partner about it? I- I'd like to keep my name if I could...Maybe we'd...I don't know, hyphenate our surnames?" _Kurt Hummel-Anderson...Kurt Anderson-Hummel..._It had a certain ring to it. But he forced the thought from his mind. They were still in high school; it was much, much too early to be talking about this.

Blaine chuckled on the couch next to him. The conversation had gone off towards an entirely different topic, one that probably made Kurt more awkward and indignant than Burt's Sex Talk, but he wasn't complaining. It was better than the silent treatment. Kurt shoved him in the shoulder, blushing up a storm. Both of them grinned like lovestruck idiots. Madame Morreaux did not miss this exchange.

She sat forward in her chair. "I think it would be best if Blaine went home now."

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but his boyfriend quickly got to his feet and agreed. "Thank you for letting me talk with you," he said sincerely. "I apologize for coming over unannounced."

"Not at all." She nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good night." He gave Kurt a meaningful glance, which the countertenor could easily interpret – _call me as soon as you can_. Blaine then departed, leaving a still-slightly-confused Kurt and an exhausted Madame. Kurt hesitated, wondering if it would be best to retire to his room or wait and see if his grandmother wished to talk more. It was a miracle to have Blaine open her up; he did not want to pass up the opportunity of getting through to her even further.

"Does your father know?" she asked.

He nodded. "I came out to him last year. But he knew long before that."

"How did he take it?"

"He...He accepted it. He told me he would love me no matter what."

She looked away. If Kurt didn't know better, he would have thought she looked almost guilty. Almost. "Yes, that sounds like mon fils...His father and I raised him to be accepting of everyone. To never discriminate. To never hold prejudices. I suppose I should have listened to my own lectures..."

Kurt chuckled lightly. He was astonished. Astonished and very, _very_ pleased. Things were really turning around. "Does that mean you don't mind that I'm gay?"

She tensed at the word. That, in itself, was his answer. She saw his face fall and, with another sigh, attempted to explain. "Please understand, mon amour..._I_ was not raised that way. I was raised to believe that homosexuals were _wrong_ and an _abomination_ to society." Kurt blinked away tears. "But your grandfather taught me to be more understanding of others. And he obviously passed those beliefs onto Burt. But it is not so easy for me to change the way I view the world, Kurt! It is not that simple."

"I know that," he hurried to assure. "I get it, I do. All I ask is that you keep an open mind. Don't...Don't cut me out. Don't shun me until you really know me. The real me. Because- Because then you'll find that I'm still the same old Kurt. I'm still the grandson you've known my whole life. I still love scarves and I still know how to make a mean soufflé and I still have an unhealthy addiction to French clothing magazines."

She laughed a little at that. A handkerchief was withdrawn from her dress' pocket. She dabbed at her running make-up. "All I ever wanted, Kurt, was for my petit-fils to be happy. That was all I have ever prayed for."

"I _am_ happy," he promised. "With Blaine." His gaze was solid, genuine. He had to let her known how he felt for his boyfriend. "Blaine makes me really happy, Grand-mère. More than _anyone_..."

She nodded resignedly. "I- I think I would like to turn in for the evening. Take me to my room, would you?"

"Of course." He got to his feet at once and helped her up the stairs to the guest bedroom. She reclined carefully on the bed. "Do you need anything else, Grand-mère?"

She shook her head. "Thank you, mon amour. That is enough." He closed her door and hurried to his room, eager to demand the details of Blaine's visit. He hit number one on his speed dial, waiting impatiently for the curly-haired boy to answer. It rang only once.

"Hey!" he answered. "Where are you?"

"In my room," Kurt informed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Come outside!"

"You're still here?" Kurt gasped. He flew back downstairs. The living room was empty. Carole had cleared away the half-touched teacups already. Ignoring the coats and scarves in the foyer, he dashed through the front door and out into the chilly evening, where, sure enough, Blaine was waiting for him at the end of the path. The older boy smirked and drew him into his arms. Kurt laughed into his chest.

"So?" he pressed, pulling back to cross his arms. "What _happened_?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Are you mad at me?"

"What? No, no way!" Kurt shook his head rapidly. "Blaine, you somehow managed to convince my grandmother to accept me! Or, at least, _try_ to accept me. Why on Earth would I be _mad_ at you?"

Blaine shrugged. "I came over without you knowing...? I wanted you to talk to her yourself and have you two sort it out alone, but I know she's leaving on Saturday and I was afraid she'd go before you were able to confront her properly and work this all out. I didn't want to think about how that would affect you. So I tried to talk to her myself."

"But what did you _say_?" he urged.

Another shrug. "Just...the truth!" And he told Kurt everything he'd said. His arms wrapped around the brunette's waist, and Kurt slid his own around Blaine's neck, burying his face into his shoulder and reveling in the familiar smell and feel. "How're you holding up?"

And that's when Kurt realized he was crying. Silent tears were falling from his eyes and onto Blaine's collarbone. But they were happy tears, tears of glee. He sniffed and reached up to wipe them away. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured with an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry. I'm just so happy! You...I can't even tell you how thankful I am. You're too amazing for words."

Blaine chuckled and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on those beautiful pink lips. "You know I'd do anything for you. We can do anything together, right? We can fight the world, together, one homophobe at a time!"

Kurt laughed. His fresh tears were ignored as his lips met Blaine's in a much more passionate kiss than the first. He tried to convey his immense gratitude and love through that kiss. The rest of the world melted away from his consciousness. He did not care he was standing in the cold, not a yard away from his front door, in the open view of anybody passing by. Blaine was the only thing he could think about.

And when he pulled away, and Blaine brushed the tears away gently with his thumbs, he murmured, "Would it be alright if we did a different song for the parade?"

Blaine's grin widened. "I thought you'd never ask."

…

**Yaaaaaaay, Grand-mère's come around! XD Well, not entirely...But the seed of acceptance his been planted in her mind! I know that in real life it usually doesn't go this smoothly :( But I really needed Kurt to have a happy ending in this, so I had to shift his grandmother's mentality much quicker than it would in reality. Not to say that people don't have these sorts of epitomes in real life. But usually they tend to be much more gradual. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! We're nearing the end. OHMAHGAWDDON'TCRY! Hahaha oh, and here's a little list of the French terms I've been using, just in case you haven't been able to guess them already:**

***grand-mère – grandmother**

***mon amour – my love**

***mon fils – my son**

***petit-fils – grandson**

***petit ami – boyfriend**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	8. Chapter 8: Tossers and the Parade

**Oh my god. I am SO SO ****_SO_**** sorry for the delay! I feel truly awful :( Unfortunately, I'm going to have to go on something of a hiatus for a week or two, because AP exams are coming up and I ****_really_**** need to kick my butt into gear. Which sounds surprisingly painful if you actually think about it...So please bare with me for a while and wait anxiously for the next update. XD I ****_promise_**** I'll come back to you guys as soon as I possibly can. I've got a lot of great ideas (at least, ****_I_**** think they're pretty great...;D) and I feel awful that I don't have the time to get them out to you guys at the moment. D:**

**The parade has come...I know Oberlin fairly well (I'm applying there), and I know that they ****_do_**** indeed host gay pride parades :D So yesh...Enjoy!**

…

The day of the parade rolled in on a wave of excitement. The Warblers had already promised to be in attendance, despite the fact that the two-hour drive from Westerville to Oberlin College would require them to leave school after lunch and miss their afternoon classes. None of them seemed particularly concerned about this, however, when Kurt pointed it out. He had the lurking suspicion that they still felt bad for him about the Monday Fiasco. Nick was still avoiding him out of guilt.

Blaine would be driving Kurt there. The rest of the Warblers would be traveling separately from them, because they would be leaving – cramped into as few cars as necessary – later than them. This was due to the fact that the performers were meant to arrive half an hour before they actually needed to be on stage.

Kurt hadn't had much trouble in convincing his father to let him skip a few of his classes. As soon as he'd mentioned that it was a performance for a gay pride parade, Burt was all for it, and more than willingly called in to the school and had him excused from his last few lessons.

"Hey babe, ready to go?" Blaine asked, coming up from behind and slipping his arm around Kurt's waist. It felt so entirely natural to walk down the empty corridors together like that. Kurt was fairly certain his hips had molded to the shape of Blaine's arm by then. Not that there would be any complaints coming from him about it. He _highly_ doubted he'd ever get sick of Blaine's touch.

"Yes," the countertenor breathed eagerly. Within the past two days, they had practiced their new song as much as possible, no doubt frustrating the janitors to no end by occupying the Warbler Hall for so long. But it had to be perfect. It was more than just another song to them. It was an open and undeniable expression of their feelings for one another. And after all that had gone down that week, Kurt knew he needed to do this.

They headed for Blaine's car. The parking lot was a sea of every automobile imaginable – almost all among the most expensive vehicles available – but was void of any other human beings. It was only eleven; classes did not let out for lunch for another half hour, but Kurt and Blaine had been released early in order to get to their performance without delay. The school had been very cooperative on the matter.

They had time to grab some lunch, though. As they opened their respective doors, Blaine asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," Kurt confessed with an embarrassed little laugh. They buckled their seatbelts. Blaine tossed his guitar into the backseat, started the engine, and pulled out of their spot while the brunette fiddled with the radio, trying to find a good station.

"Kurt, you've got to eat something," Blaine coaxed with an understanding grin. The butterflies were attacking his own stomach as well. He was glad to know it was not just him. It was silly, he supposed, to be anxious about it, considering how many performances they'd already given. But this wasn't just an impromptu song in the Senior Commons, and nor was it a group number for a competition. It was their own. And that made them more dedicated to its success than anything.

"You're right," Kurt sighed.

"How about a sandwich from Layers?" he suggested. "Or maybe Tossers?"

"Hmm..." Kurt bit his lip contemplatively. He loved that Blaine knew he would want something healthy. It showed just how familiar they'd grown with each other. "Would you be cool with Tossers?"

Blaine's smile widened and, risking a glance away from the road, took his hand, driving with ease with only one hand. "Of _course_, Kurt. You know I'm not picky about my food."

Kurt beamed and leaned across the gearshift to kiss him on the cheek. Tossers was not too far away; it only took them a five minute drive until they were pulling into its parking lot. Blaine cut the engine and together they entered the cafe. It was only when the unavoidable aroma of salad dressings hit him that Kurt realized he was actually pretty hungry, and that the fluttering in his gut wasn't purely from nerves.

"Do you think everyone will like it?" he asked worriedly. They approached the cash register. The restaurant was buzzing with a small crowd of lunch-goers, but nothing too packed or overwhelming.

"Like what?" Blaine's eyes scoured the menu.

"The _song_!" Kurt said, as if it should have been obvious.

Blaine laughed. "Kurt, you're the one that decided on this song, remember? Because it meant so much to you? And now to me...Besides, it's a gay pride parade. It's not like we'll have to worry about angering any homophobes there. And we'll know some people there. The Warblers, and your family, and a few other students from Dalton I think..."

This cheered Kurt up considerably. They stepped up to give their orders. The cashier, a bored-looking college girl, hardly batted an eye when Blaine gave Kurt a reassuring kiss and insisted on paying. However, on their way over to a booth near the back corner, Kurt caught the eye of an elderly couple, and as they passed by, the seated pair gave the boys' linked hands pointed glares. Kurt's first instinct was to drop the contact and look away. But Blaine, who had noticed the disapproving stares as well, only squeezed his hand tighter.

"Maybe we should just eat in the car," the fashionista suggested morosely at his Caesar salad. Suddenly he found he'd lost his appetite.

"Hey." Blaine intertwined their fingers across the tabletop deliberately and waited until Kurt met his gaze before speaking again. "We have _nothing_ to hide. We are doing _nothing_ wrong. I don't want us to be that gay couple that feels the need to _hide_ their relationship when they're in public..."

Kurt gave him a watery, apologetic smile and tightened his hold. "You're right, Blaine. Me, neither. I'm sorry."

They ate their lunch without another hitch. The older man and woman left after five minutes once they realized that their icy glares were no longer having any effect on the teenage couple. Kurt was a little ashamed of himself. He always used to be so open and proud of who he was! He had never wavered in his self-respect concerning his sexuality before. But, he supposed, having his own grandmother – the family member he looked up to the most – practically disown him because of it, even for a moment, really did something to his mentality. Before the Monday Fiasco, he never would have hesitated in showing his true self wherever he went.

The drive up north to Oberlin College was pleasant enough. They listened to the radio and sang along and talked and held hands. It was lovely. But the flutterings in both their stomachs did not go away, and only seemed to increase in intensity the closer they got. Finally, at half past one, they arrived at the campus and pulled into an empty parking spot. It was not hard to figure out where the parade was being held. One just had to follow the stream of rainbow flags and would find themselves in the midst of what seemed like thousands of enthusiastic supporters. Shirts sporting familiar terms like "Courage" and "Pride" surrounded them.

Keeping a firm hold on each other's hands, Blaine and Kurt wove their way through the crowd towards the stage at the head of the gathering. Kurt could not help but grin as he looked around at the attendees. Never before had he seen so many people who would not frown at his hand-holding with another male. Never before had he been in a group of such accepting individuals. Never before had he ever imagined that there could be so many people – in Ohio, at least – that had absolutely nothing against his sexual orientation. Although the parade was mostly college students, there was a generous intermixing of adults and kids as well.

At the edge of the stage, on which a lesbian couple was currently doing a marvelous dance routine, Kurt caught sight of the manager, a middle-aged woman with a messy brown ponytail and kind gray eyes.

"Blaine, that's Miss Jasmine!" Kurt called over the cheers. The female couple on stage must have just done a particularly impressive move that neither of the boys had been able to catch. Kurt pointed at the coordinator and led the way over to her.

She turned and noticed their approach. Her face, lined with stress, broke into a warm smile. "Oh, good, you're Kurt Hummel, right?"

"That's me!" he confirmed, smiling as well. They shook hands. "This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson."

"Wonderful!" she gushed, shaking the curly-haired boy's hand as well. "You guys timed this perfectly! There's changing stalls back there" – she pointed with her pen – "if you two would like to change." They nodded. They did not want to go on in their Dalton uniforms, and had brought street clothes for the occasion. "Besides that, feel free to enjoy the show! You'll be going on at two, if I remember correctly..." She checked her clipboard. "Yep! Two! So make sure to be back here at five till."

"Got it," they both agreed. She noticed someone else and hurried away then, leaving the two boys to make their way to the changing stalls. Blaine took no time at all in slipping into fairly hugging dark-wash jeans and a long-sleeved turquoise top with a low v-neck. He knew Kurt loved that shirt, because whenever he wore it Kurt always ended up kissing that sliver of exposed chest as if it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

Kurt, on the other hand, spent a good five minutes in his uncomfortably small changing booth. He tugged on skin-tight red jeans – the ones that always made Blaine drool – a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a dark gray vest, and a black scarf with a red rose design. He then perfected his hair in the minuscule mirror with the can of hairspray he always had handy in his bag.

When he stepped out, Blaine was waiting for him. The older boy's jaw dropped when he saw those unbearably form-fitting pants. Kurt laughed at his expression, before noticing that magical shirt and felt his own lips part.

"You look great," Blaine murmured with a smirk, drawing closer and locking Kurt's waist in his arms and letting his lips play against Kurt's in a teasing, chaste kiss. They laughed, parted, kissed again.

"Back at you," Kurt giggled. This time, their kiss quickly turned passionate. Kurt's arms found their way around Blaine's neck, fingers entwining in those beautiful curls. Tongues danced, heartbeats sped up, bodies pressed close together. Neither of them could think of anything except the feel of each other. And the truly wonderful thing about it all was that they didn't even have to worry about lurking homophobes. Even though they were in clear view of numerous other parade participants, there was absolutely no reason to hide it, hide their relationship, hide their feelings. It was so _freeing_.

Ten minutes later, the Warblers found them at the base of a nearby tree, listening to the performances and occasionally singing along when they knew the lyrics. Blaine's back was against the trunk, with Kurt lounging between his bent legs, head resting on his boyfriend's shoulder. They both had such serene smiles on their faces that the first thing any of the Warblers said to them was:

"Alright, what did they give you and where can I get some?"

The couple burst out laughing. Kurt sat up a bit. "Good to see you too, Jeff," the brunette said sarcastically.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "You know, _shockingly_, there are people in this world that can be happy _without_ the use of drugs or alcohol." They got to their feet and brushed off any clinging grass.

"Aren't you two going up soon?" Wes asked, pointedly ignoring Jeff's faux-shocked look.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, at two. We were just about to head over there..." He looked around at all of them, still clad in their blazers and a couple munching on the remainders of their lunch. "Thanks so much for coming, guys. Really. It- It means a lot..."

Blaine melted at how adorable his boyfriend looked just then, smiling gratefully at his friends, once again unafraid to be who he was, and that confidence made him look absolutely stunning. He honestly could not figure out what he had done he deserve such a perfect young man for his boyfriend. And, if Kurt would let him, he would do everything in his power to make sure he kept that beautiful smile on his face for the rest of his life.

"Yes," he agreed, turning to his friends as well. "For both of us."

"Of course," David said. "We wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"I'm sure you two will do-" Jeff lost his train of thought, however, when two girls in white "I M R U" t-shirts strolled by, each with an ice cream cone. "Oooh, one moment..."

And he was off. Not after the girls, of course – he was of the wrong gender to have any chance with them – but in search for the ice cream vendor. Kurt and Blaine laughed as this inevitability. The remaining Warblers wished them luck and moved off. Kurt and Blaine began to head towards the stage when Nick stepped up to them.

"I- um," he stuttered, avoiding eye contact with either of them. Blaine found that his detestation of the boy was quickly fading. Now that Nick had backed off Kurt, Blaine found he could be quite civil with him. They _had_ been something of friends before Kurt had transferred, after all. As long as Nick no longer posed as a threat, Blaine was perfectly willing to return to their friendship status and put the whole thing behind them.

And from the looks of it, Nick severely wished to put it all behind him, too. "Look, I just wanted to say that I'm really, _really_ sorry about...about what happened last Monday." He looked to Kurt, then to Blaine. "I- I didn't realize...I mean, I didn't mean to..."

Kurt took sympathy on the poor, verbally fumbling singer. "Nick, relax. It's not your fault. I suppose in the end it was probably good that she found out. Although I would have preferred a much less, um, _public_ setting." He chuckled, a little bitterly. "But it's fine. It's in the past now."

"I know, I just- I feel awful!" He frowned deeply. "About everything..."

Blaine stepped in. "It's fine, man, you don't need to worry about it anymore. I- We talked with Madame Morreaux, and things have settled down."

Nick looked extremely relieved. "Really?" he pressed. "That's great! She- She hasn't actually disowned you, then?"

Kurt laughed. "No, no. She...She's still trying to accept it, I think, but at least she's _trying_. That's more than what most homophobes would ever do. She's still awkward around me, of course. But I would take that over shoe-throwing any day."

This attempt at light humor received a few chuckles. "Well, anyway..." And then Nick smiled at them. A genuine smile. "Good luck, you two."

And neither Kurt nor Blaine even pretended not to know that Nick meant much more than just with their performance. He meant with their relationship. He meant with the future bigots they would have to face, the future troubles they would have to endure, the future ignorance they would have to cure in order to stay together.

And they _would_ fight. They _would_ endure. Because Kurt knew he would do anything for Blaine, and Blaine knew he would do anything for Kurt. As long as they had each other, they felt like they could do anything. And Nick must have seen that between them.

Kurt smiled. "Thank you, Nick."

And then they moved off, hand-in-hand, towards the stage, ready to express their deepest affections for one another through song.

…

**Wow, that came out a lot longer than I'd planned! Take it as an apology for the delay? ;D Once again, I know you're probably going to be upset with me for the mini-hiatus I have to go on if I want to pass my exams, but I promise it kills me even more than it kills you, and I cannot WAIT to get these tests over with and get back to writing! As usual, reviews are always great, and will help me get through this torture known as Advanced Placement...I love you all!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	9. Chapter 9: Color of Your Eyes

**OHMAHGAWDI'MSOGONNAFAIL. Instead of studying like I should have been doing, I ended up writing this next chapter. GAH. But your reviews just made me so motivated and loved that I just HAD to get this out for you all! But now I REALLY, really need to go study...**

**I'd just like to make a quick little shout-out to ****Amethyst Archer for reviewing every chapter in a row! :D It was awesome to wake up to that. And to the rest of you incredible reviewers...I cannot even put into words how thankful I am! Every single one makes me smile and laugh :) I wish I could personally thank each and every one of you. You've been AMAZING. I swear you guys are what keep me going and work through a writer's block (more like writer's blockade. They suuuuuuck). So anyway, enjoy!**

…

Miss Jasmine flapped her hand at them the moment they arrived at the edge of the stage.

"Are you two ready?" she pressed.

"Yes," they answered as one. Blaine picked up his guitar from beside one of the giant speakers. He had retrieved it from the back of his car when he and Kurt had gone to drop off their uniforms.

"Great. You're up after these guys." She indicated the interpretive dancers currently occupying the stage. "Do you two need anything besides microphones?"

"No." Again, answered in unison.

She beamed. "Well that's easy, then! As soon as these men come off stage you two will go on. Good luck!" She moved away. Kurt tightened his hold on Blaine's hand. The older boy grinned at him, nervous but excited. There was nothing left to say. The song would say it all for them.

And then the performers finished their dance and skipped off the stage.

It was time.

They took one last reassuring glance at each other before ascending the stairs, fingers still interlocked. A stagehand ran out and placed a stool at the center of the stage, in front of one of the microphones. The crowd clapped welcomingly. Blaine perched himself on the stool with his guitar and adjusted the mic to the proper height. Kurt took the other main mic out from its stand and moved to stand next to his boyfriend, a foot apart, not touching, waiting for the parade attendees to calm down. Blaine caught his eye. Both of them were grinning widely. He found himself drowning in those gorgeous blue eyes, the ones he knew so well, the ones that told him so much without the need for words.

And right now, they were so filled with emotion he felt his own feelings swell within his chest. They were empowering, and uncontrollable.

Blaine strummed the first few notes. Kurt looked back out to the audience, out to the sea of accepting viewers. He saw the Warblers near the front, eating ice cream and smiling encouragingly up at them. He saw numerous other Dalton students, some still clad in their uniforms and others in street clothes. And, to his immense surprise and excitement, he also saw his McKinley friends standing next to his family. Burt, Carole, Finn, and the members of New Directions stood near the middle, behind the Warblers, identical smiles on all their upturned faces.

And when Kurt glanced over to Blaine, he knew that the dark-haired boy had seen them too. Kurt has never felt so loved in his whole life than in that moment. He loved his family. He loved his old friends. He loved his new friends. And, more than anyone, he loved his boyfriend.

And he wanted to sing it to the world.

_There isn't much that I can give_

_But what I give I'll put my whole heart into_

_This is the best that I can do_

_This song goes out to you_

Blaine's deeper voice took over. Kurt moved closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. Their gazes met, hazel with glasz, and melded together. They could not bare to tear their eyes away. They were singing to each other, and everyone was going to know it.

_Cause I'm losing myself in the color of your eyes_

_Finding myself in the light you have inside_

Kurt's voice interwove with his in perfect harmony. The feelings behind the words were noticeable to everybody listening. No matter what age, or gender, or sexuality, the song touched every single audience member. The beauty of their song was undeniable. The beauty of their love...That was even stronger.

_I don't want to look away_

_I'm used to seeing my world in grey_

_It's the color of your eyes_

Kurt moved a bit around the stage, but never straying too far from Blaine's side. The guitarist was like a magnet for him; he was always attracted right back. Kurt took over again, swirling his hips and winking playfully at the older boy.

_Is there a line that I can sing_

_That would have you smile back at me?_

_Is there a beat that I can play_

_That would make you dance your own way?_

When it was Blaine's turn once more, he turned his head and sang directly to his boyfriend, letting everything he felt for him be conveyed through the song. He wanted to let him know just how wonderful he thought Kurt was. He wanted to let him know just how strong, how talented, how breathtaking he truly was to him. And he wanted to let him know that there was nobody else in his world that made him feel the way he did. And when their voices once more merged in harmony, he knew that Kurt understood what he was trying to say.

_Cause I'm losing myself in the color of your eyes_

_Finding myself in the light you have inside_

_I don't want to look away_

_I'm used to seeing my world in grey_

_It's the color of your eyes_

_So close your eyes and fill your heart _

_With every melody I start_

_See the picture that I paint_

_With every rhythm that I make_

_Cause I'm losing myself in the color of your eyes_

_Finding myself in the light you have inside_

_I'm losing myself in the color of your eyes_

_Finding myself in the light you have inside (have inside)_

_I don't want to look away (look away)_

_I'm used to seeing my world in grey_

_The color of your eyes_

_The color of your eyes_

Their voices faded out along with the last guitar note. Yet the song seemed to linger still longer over the audience. Nobody breathed. And then, in a tumultuous wave of cheering, the entire crowd burst into simultaneous applause. It was downright deafening. People whistled, called for encores, and some were even crying. The glee clubbers from both schools made their presence known with the volume of their positive but incomprehensible screams.

Kurt laughed. He found he had tears in his eyes. Blaine stood up and captured him in a fierce hug, careful not to hit him with the guitar, and Kurt buried his face in the crook of his neck. They both just stood there for a moment, swaying and laughing and crying and listening to the roar of their audience's approval.

"Thank you!" Kurt finally said into the microphone. They waved and exited the stage hand-in-hand, the same way they'd entered. The next act – a four-member rock band from the looks of it – looked extraordinarily intimidated at having to go on after such a stirring number. Miss Jasmine ushered them up the stairs, nevertheless, before turning to Kurt and Blaine with teary eyes and a dropped jaw.

"That was..." She struggled to come up with the right word. "Spectacular! Marvelous! Oh my goodness, I just want to..." And then she drew them both into a giant bear-hug.

"Thank you," Kurt chuckled again, still grinning like an idiot. "Thanks so much."

"KURT! BLAINE!"

They turned to the cry. Mercedes and Rachel led the charge of familiar faces, and before they knew it they were being hugged and back-patted and congratulated from all their friends, old and new alike. "That was incredible!"s and "I was so moved!"s and "You guys were awesome!"s bombarded them from all sides. They thanked everyone profusely, smiles never fading.

Kurt's family came up next. The Warblers and the New Directions let them through, and Burt – in an unexpected public show of affection – pulled his son into a tight embrace, muttering how proud he was and how wonderful the song had been. Kurt began to cry for real at that. Blaine put a comforting arm around him.

"Um, excuse me, sirs?"

They looked down at the timid voice. A little boy, probably not older than seven or eight, stood before them, curly blonde hair messy and untamed. His big blue eyes were hypnotic. He was clutching two pink roses in his tiny fists. A couple feet behind him, smiling fondly down at him, were two older men that were no doubt his dads.

"Yes?" Blaine asked, voice gentle and warm.

The boy held the flowers up to them. "These are for you," he stated, adorably unabashed. Taken aback, Blaine and Kurt glanced at each other, then up at the fathers. They nodded. So they each took their gift with careful fingers. Kurt, grinning and smelling the rose, crouched down in front of him, and Blaine followed suit.

"Thank you so much!" Kurt beamed kindly. "And what might your name be?"

The kid grinned toothily. "Kyle!" He pointed behind him at the two middle-aged men. "These are my daddies! We really liked your song. Daddy Joe says it reminded him of when _he_ was a teenager!"

This set Kurt off again. He held a hand up to his mouth to stifle his sobs. But they were happy sobs. He had a vision of himself and Blaine in the future, happily married as these two men clearly were – if the rings on their fingers were any indication – and a cute little boy to take care of. He wanted that life. He wanted it more than he'd ever realized. What he wouldn't give to get married and raise a child with the man he loved...

Blaine rubbed his back comfortingly and smiled at Kyle. "Thank you so much for the roses, Kyle. That was very nice of you." He then looked up at the parents. The one in the sweater vest was crying silently, and his partner had an arm around him quite similar to how Blaine's was around Kurt. The countertenor was still struggling to stop his tears of joy.

The jersey-clad man reached out a hand. Blaine stood and shook it. "You're song was absolutely beautiful," he informed him seriously. "Rick and I were really touched by it...We've been going to this parade for years, but never before have we seen a performance quite like that. Such raw emotion! You two reminded us so much of our own youth, and the magic of finding love even in such an oppressive world such as this. I sincerely wish you two the best of luck in life. Just remember, your love is your greatest strength. _Never_ forget that."

Kyle then gave Kurt the tightest hug his little arms could manage, and Kurt hugged him back, laughing through his tears. He buried his face in those wild curls and dreamed about one day having his own child to hug and tend to. But for now, he could wait. There would be time for that far in the future. In the meantime, he was going to enjoy his life. He would show the world just how fabulous Kurt Hummel was, and how proud he was to be who he was.

With Blaine. He was _proud_ to be with Blaine, bigots be damned.

Blaine shook hands with the bespectacled man as well, and after Kurt dried his tears and did the same, Kyle was swept up in Rick and Joe's arms and the family said their goodbyes. The entire group – who had watched the proceedings in silence with ridiculously wide smiles – all waved.

"Weren't they cute?" Rachel gushed. She was reminded greatly of her own dads.

"That little boy was the sweetest little thing!" Mercedes and Carole gushed together.

Kurt chuckled and slipped his arms around Blaine, resting his head against his shoulder and watching their new acquaintances fade away into the crowd. He held his rose absentmindedly beneath his nose, inhaling the aroma. And, unbeknownst to him, Blaine was imagining the same scenario as he was – them as a married couple, both successful and doing what they loved, living together in an apartment perhaps with a kid or two running around. But of course neither of them would bring it up. Because they were sensible teenagers; they knew it was too early to be discussing marriage when they were still in high school. But nevertheless, the thought was there. And quite honestly, neither of them could picture their future with anyone else by their side.

And then, to Kurt's immense shock, he spotted someone approaching. Someone who looked thoroughly out of place. Someone who he would never in a million years have expected to see at a gay pride parade. Someone who wore a floor-length dress and a silky blue scarf...

The group fell silent, and Kurt pulled away from Blaine slightly as his grandmother drew closer.

…

**What on Earth is Madame doing there? Also, I really loved that couple and their kid. They're definitely going to appear in the next chapter. Plus, there's going to be one more song...Who do you think will sing it? What song? Guess away! You have a long time until you find out, unfortunately :( Sorry! I promise the second AP exams are over, I'll be back on my butt typing away like no tomorrow.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	10. Chapter 10: They Come in all Sorts

**AP exams are officially OVER. You know what that means...****_updates_****. :D Haha I know it's been weeks since my last update and I deeply apologize for that. Some of you have probably already forgotten about me. ;) But anyway, I hope you're not too mad at me. Enjoy!**

…

"G-Grand-mère?" Kurt gasped. "Wh-What are you doing here? Did you-? I mean, what did you...?"

The elderly woman pursed her lips. Her eyes seemed a little red-rimmed. The Warblers around them shifted uneasily. The last time they'd seen this woman, she'd thrown her stilettos at one of their members. Naturally, they were not all that welcoming of her. She could sense the discontent.

"May I speak with you?" She raised her head high, the echo of her regular authoritative tone ringing in her voice. "Privately?"

"Yes, of course," he answered automatically. Blaine glanced at him and even opened his mouth to protest, before realizing that it was not his place to interfere. Madame Morreaux did not look like she was about to throw more footwear anytime soon. He was willing to give her a chance. Since their talk a couple days prior, Kurt had reported no signs of blatant disgust. Besides, she had the right to speak with her own grandson. He could not deny her that.

Kurt offered her his elbow, and together they moved off a little ways towards the trees, away from the parade.

"What's that all about?" Wes demanded.

"It's none of our business," Blaine quickly covered. He was acutely aware of Kurt's parents' presence. They were still in the dark about the Monday Fiasco, and he had promised Kurt he would not say anything. His pointed glare, luckily, was understood by his friends, who immediately dove into animated conversations with the members of New Directions. He glanced after his boyfriend and wondered what they were talking about, alone. He sincerely hoped it was something good.

…

**(Ten minutes previous – Madame Morreaux)**

_What am I _doing_ here?_

Madame asked this question to herself for the umpteenth time as she lowered herself tiredly onto an empty bench. All around her, members and supporters of the LGBTQ community enjoyed the parade, feeling at home in this crowd. Madame, on the other hand, felt thoroughly out of place. She was trying to understand what Kurt was going through, what he and that boy – his _boyfriend_, she forced herself to remember – had tried to explain to her. But it was much easier said than done. She had been raised in a household that frowned upon anything or anybody that broke from the norm. Her family had no specific prejudice against homosexuals, per say, but there was always that underlying sense of superiority above people like them that had been drilled into her upbringing.

She had thought she'd gotten better – more accepting – after marrying the late Mr. Hummel. Her husband had always been extraordinarily open-minded. It was a trait Madame deeply respected and strove to emanate. When their son was born, she struggled daily not to implant unjustified prejudices in the tiny boy's mind, which her father had done to her. She made sure little Burt had the freedom to develop his own views and opinions, often distancing herself from him in order to let that happen. Her husband was the one who really taught their son about tolerance, just as he'd taught _her_ every day.

After he died, though, everything changed. Burt moved to Lima, Ohio, started a tire shop, and began dating the future Mrs. Hummel. She was no longer needed. Taking up her maiden name once more, she returned to Paris and occupied her time with running a clothing store.

And over the years, during which she visited her aged parents multiple times, the subconscious prejudices returned ten-fold. Only she had not noticed until now.

"Daddy! Daddy! Look at the flowers!"

Madame snapped out of her revere at the child's cry. An energetic little boy, with a head of wild blond hair, was tugging two middle-aged men towards a booth nearby that sold every color of rose imaginable. She watched them curiously. The man in the jersey chuckled and wrapped an arm around the sweater-vested one. _They're gay, with a child!_ Madame realized. Then she mentally scolded herself for having forgotten where she was.

"Can I get a flower?" the little boy pleaded. "Pretty please?"

"For yourself?" the bespectacled one asked with faux-incredulity.

The taller man grinned. "How about this – we'll buy you one as long as you give it to your favorite performer. Deal?"

The boy contemplated this for a moment. "But I don't have a favorite yet!"

The jersey-clad father chuckled again. "Then we'll just have to wait until there _is_ a performer you like best, now won't we?"

"But Daddy-!" he began to pout.

Just then, the sound of a guitar began to float over the audience, instantly capturing Madame's attention. The two men hushed their son and listened to the enrapturing notes. From her bench near the far edge of the gathering, Madame could see the two boys on stage quite clearly, two boys she knew very well. Her heart stuttered. And then Kurt began to sing.

…

Only halfway through, Madame was dabbing with a handkerchief at the stream of tears flowing from her eyes. How could she have been so stupid, so blind? How could she have thought, even for a moment, that being gay would make Kurt any less of a man? How could she have assumed it would be an irresistible flaw, a drawback? Because what she was listening to – what she was seeing right now – was anything but flawed. It was absolutely beautiful. Never before had she seen two people look at one another with such devotion, love, and unbeatable affection. It was a look Madame had always hoped to see on her grandson's face one day. And if it just so happened to be a man that influenced that look, then so be it. Kurt was happy. That was all that should matter.

A few feet away, the man in the sweater-vest was crying into his partner's chest. The one in the jersey rubbed his back soothingly, looking close to tears himself.

The little boy tugged on the taller father's pant leg. "Daddy Joe, why is Daddy Rick sad?"

Rick sniffled, drew back, and gave him a watery but reassuring smile. Joe answered, "Because it reminds him of when we were teenagers, Kyle...And it's a wonderful song. It's clear those two truly care for each other. Deeply."

Rick nodded and wiped his eyes. "Remember all those fairytales we read to you? About true love conquering all?"

Kyle nodded solemnly.

Rick pointed up to the stage, where Kurt and Blaine were nearing the end of their gorgeous duet. "Look closely, Kyle..._That_ is true love. Right there."

Madame began to cry once more. These strangers could understand and relate to her own grandson better than she could. When had it come to all this?

Kyle perked up. "I have my favorite performance! Can I get _two_ flowers?"

Rick laughed and brushed away the remaining tears from behind his glasses. "Of course, sweetie, choose any color you'd like."

The crowd roared with applause. Kurt and Blaine had just finished. Madame got to her feet and clapped along, even though she knew they had not seen her or even knew she was there. She still wanted to show her support.

It was a start, anyway.

After the two teenage boys exited the stage, Madame wandered in the general direction they'd gone off to. She passed by gays, lesbians, and straight couples. And she noticed that, regardless of genders, they all had the same expression – the one of love and happiness. The one that showed they were comfortable and satisfied with where they were in the world and who they were with. It reminded Madame of her own face all those years ago, when her husband had still been alive.

She noticed a couple of girls with their heads close together, reading a book. They each had Oberlin sweatshirts. They were no doubt students at the school.

"Oh my god," the blonde one murmured. Her voice wavered with emotion. "That's so sad! I totally get how they feel!"

The black-haired girl – her girlfriend, Madame assumed – slid a comforting arm around her shoulder. "It's alright, babe...You don't have to tell them yet if you're not ready..."

"B-But didn't you read what she s-said?" the blonde half-sobbed. "She- She said to do it!"

"Not unless you're comfortable with it," the other insisted understandingly. She ran her fingers through the blonde's short pixie-cut hair. "I'm willing to wait, baby, you know that. I don't want to force you out of the closet until you're ready. Until you are...Just keep reading this book to help you get through. Okay?"

The blonde laughed, nodded, and patted at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her girlfriend hugged her and kissed the crown of her head.

"Excuse me?" Madame stepped up to them. "I- I am sorry to interrupt you two...You were clearly in the middle of a rather private conversation, but..."

The raven-haired girl smiled warmly. It was a little disarming. Madame was not used to addressing strangers, much less having the strangers greet her so welcomingly. "No, don't worry about it. Can we help you?"

"It is just-..." She hesitated, not sure she wanted to ask anymore. But the girls looked so expectant and helpful that she couldn't resist. "My grandson recently, um, informed me of his- his sexuality. And I- I did not handle it with grace. I was wondering how to make it up to him and, well..." She glanced down at the book open in the blonde's lap. "What exactly is that?"

"This?" she held it up so Madame could read the cover. _It Gets Better_. "It's the most touching thing I've ever read! Well, I'm not actually done with it yet, but...It's a collection of short entries from celebrities and adults from the LGBTQ community about their own experiences and encouraging teens not to give up hope and stuff like that. You know, coming out and dealing with bullies and all..."

"It helped me come out to my parents," the one with the dark hair spoke up. "So I made Rose here read it, too."

"Is there somewhere I could get a copy, perhaps?" Madame inquired.

"Yeah, there's a stand a little ways down that way that sells LGBTQ novels."

"Thank you very much." She started off in the direction she had pointed.

"And good luck with your grandson!" Rose called after her.

_Luck_, Madame repeated to herself. _Yes, it is going to take a lot of that to make it up to Kurt...I just hope he'll be more forgiving than I am._

…

**(Back to present)**

"So..." Kurt stopped underneath the same tree he and Blaine had relaxed under prior to their performance. He shifted impatiently. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

The regal woman sighed and shut her eyes for a moment. "I am sorry, Kurt. I am so, _so_ sorry. Not- Not just for my improper behavior earlier in the week. Although I am obviously sorry for that, as well. But I want you know that I feel terrible for treating you so horribly. I was...ignorant. I am _still_ pretty ignorant. And I know that is no excuse for the things I have said and done, but I...I am learning. Slowly. You are teaching me, mon amour, the same way your Grand-père taught me. And I wish to continue learning from you. About...About acceptance and tolerance and- and your lifestyle. I will always love you, Kurt, you have to know that. And I want to love you for _you_, for who you _truly_ are. I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive this mistaken old woman..."

Kurt exhaled the breath he had not known he'd been holding with a laugh, bubbling with suppressed sobs. He ran into his grandmother's arms and clung to her tightly. She stroked his soft chestnut hair, squeezing her eyes shut against the fresh wave of tears threatening to overflow. Kurt's were already spilling onto her scarf, staining the silk, but she did not mind in the least. Kurt buried his face into her shoulder, memorizing her frail frame, her warm, wrinkled skin, the caress of her satin dress, and the stifling smell of expensive French perfume.

"Of course," he hiccuped. "Of course, Grand-mère! I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you."

And the two fashionistas stood there, beneath that tree, hugging and crying and laughing. Music from the stage drifted to them on the gentle afternoon breeze. It rustled the leaves and danced with their hair. Kurt was overwhelmed with relief. He could not get over how lucky he was. He had such a loving father, and loving grandmother, and loving step-mother, and loving step-brother, and above all, a loving boyfriend. What more could he wish for?

Madame pulled away and reached into her purse. "I- I got something for you, mon amour." She handed him the novel. He turned it over curiously. _It Gets Better._ "It is about...about coming out and- and dealing with the discrimination of this world. I- I have not read it personally, but a couple of girls recommended I get it. I hope it will help you with your- your, uh, situation."

Kurt chuckled. He understood what a struggle it was for her to talk about this sort of thing with him. He loved her all the more for trying, though, for working through it. He handed the book back to her and smiled warmly into her wet blue eyes. "I think...Grand-mère, I think _you_ should read this. I'm already out and proud, and I know that the bullying may never stop, but at least it can't get any worse. I've already come to terms with that. But I think you're the one that needs to come to terms with it, now."

She frowned. "Bullying?"

He bit his lip. "I- At my old school, there was some gay-bashing." He shrugged; he did not want to talk about it with her. Not now, at least. He just wanted to enjoy the parade and revel in everything that had gone down that week.

Her electric gaze burned into him. "Is that why you transferred to that private school, Kurt? Because of bullying?" He nodded, unable to lie to her. She sighed sharply through her nose, then smiled encouragingly. "Then I have good news for you! Before I leave for Paris, I am going to call your school and set up payment for board."

His face lit up. "Are you serious, Grand-mère? Really? I'll be able to board?" She beamed and inclined her head. "Oh, _thank you!_ Thank you _so much!_"

And he threw his arms around her once more.

…

**Gah, it's SO good to be back :)**

**NOTE: ****_It Gets Better_**** is a real book by Dan Savage and Terry Miller. They started this YouTube phenomena (called the "It Gets Better Project") in which politicians, celebrities, activists, religious leaders, or just regular people posted videos encouraging LGBTQ teenagers to just get through the hard days (namely high school) because it ****_does_**** get better. They spoke either of personal experience or of the lives of people they know. It's ****_really_**** moving. I own a copy, and even though I'm not getting bullied or anything, it was still very powerful for me. If you – or somebody you know – is struggling with their sexuality or getting harassed because of who they are, I strongly suggest picking up a copy. :)**

**Okay, I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoyed Madame Morreaux's side of the story! I wanted to show her journey towards acceptance and how powerful Kurt and Blaine's song was. There's one more chapter. Stick around!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	11. Chapter 11: Apology END

**LAST CHAPTER. *bursts into dramatic tears***

…

As the two glee clubs caught up – Wes and Rachel acting tersely polite with one another as they each strove to contain their instinctive need to get a one-up on competition – Burt clapped Blaine on his shoulder. He had not noticed anything out of the ordinary about the Warblers' reaction to Madame Morreaux. "You did a really great job out there," he complimented, even going so far as to smile at him. "You and my boy sounded really nice together."

Carole beamed at him from Burt's side. "It's true," she agreed. Her eyes were still watery. "I've never seen such a beautiful duet. It's clear you two were just made for one another!"

He laughed. She's said it perfectly. "I couldn't agree with you more. I care deeply for your son. More than he may ever know."

Burt punched him gently in that I'm-too-manly-to-hug-you kind of way and chuckled. "I suppose now I should be threatening to hunt you down and shoot you if you ever hurt my son, but from the looks of that song, that isn't going to be a problem. You'll take good care of our boy, now, won't you?"

"For as long as he'll have me, yes," Blaine promised solemnly.

Carole engulfed him in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad he found you!" she murmured.

"As am I."

They turned to the sound of Madame Morreaux's voice. The three of them had not noticed their return. Nearby, the Warblers and the New Directions dimmed down their conversations as many of them tried to eavesdrop. Finn shifted from one foot to the other between the two groups, clearly not sure whether he should join his family or stay with New Directions. Finally, Rachel gave him a little shove towards Carole, and he stumbled to her side.

Madame approached Blaine with Kurt at her side. The younger fashionista was beaming from ear to ear. The elderly woman gave Blaine a purposeful look. She could not give a full apology without raising suspicion from her son and his wife. However, she wanted to get across that she would no longer be a problem for them, that she was sorry for the way she'd behaved in the beginning, and that she would do everything in her power to support their relationship in the future.

"That song was beautiful," she stated, her authoritative tone unnecessary, since everybody agreed with her on that point. "But I am afraid I am very tired. Mon amour, you may stay as long as you would like. Mon fils, take me home now. Please."

Burt grumbled about being used as a chauffeur but did not protest. Carole smiled at him sympathetically and turned to her son. "Finn, are you coming with us?"

"I think I'll stick around for a while," he decided. "I'll catch a ride with someone from glee club."

Suddenly, Wes swore under his breath. He had just checked his watch and saw the time. "We gotta go," he confessed. "It's past two-thirty. I promised my mom I'd be home by five, and I still need to drop you guys off at Dalton..."

"Oh, yes, let's go, then," David agreed calmly. He and about half the other Warblers had gotten a ride in Wes's giant minivan, which they'd dubbed the Wesmobile. "Blaine, Kurt? You guys were wonderful. You should be very proud of yourselves. Without you I don't know what we'd do."

Kurt's family and the group of boys ended up heading towards the parking lot together, leaving Kurt and Blaine to soak up New Directions' eternal praise.

"Will you two warble for my birthday party?" Brittany requested, dead serious.

Santana burst into laughter, placing a hand on the small of her back. Kurt was surprised she was willing to show that small sign of affection, especially in public, and chalked it up to the gay, open atmosphere of the parade. "Brit, just because they're called the Warblers doesn't mean they _warble_! They still sing, just like you and me."

The group of Blaine and Kurt's family and friends had almost reached the parking lot by then. Wes was near the back of the Dalton students, taking a quick head count of the guys he would be driving, when he felt an arm on his elbow, holding him back. He stopped. Madame pinned him down with her eyes.

"I have a favor to ask of you boys..."

…

The next day was Madame's departure. She was all set; her things were packed away in her suitcases and her boarding pass was printed, ready and waiting on the kitchen counter. She had spent all of Friday evening with Kurt in an attempt to make up for the lost time with her grandson. They had laughed until both their sides were sore. In the few hours between their arrival back at the house and Kurt's, she had also spoken with Burt about paying for board at Dalton, and although he had put up a small fight – he did not like the idea of his son being so far away – Madame won out in the end. As always. And with a couple phone calls, it had been settled. Kurt could move in as soon as he wished.

Kurt knew that something was up the moment his grandmother volunteered to accompany him to Dalton. Burt had assured him that he could take his time, but Madame seemed insistent that he go over at once, before she left in the afternoon. So he had quickly packed up a few of his things and threw them into the back of his car, Madame in the passenger seat. Before he started the engine, he sent a short text to Blaine warning him that he was on his way over.

The dark-haired boy was waiting for him at the entrance to the school when they arrived, clad in casual clothes that he had no doubt thrown on the moment he got Kurt's text warning that Madame would be accompanying him. He grinned in greeting and even risked a chaste kiss. But Madame did not seem offended or disgusted. She just smiled at the two of them.

"Kurt, mon amour, I have a confession to make," she said at last, while Blaine and Kurt were pulling boxes out of the trunk (Blaine making a teasing comment about how many trips it would take to bring over all of the countertenor's things), and they paused. "I did not just come here to keep you company on the long drive."

"What's up?" Kurt pressed, readjusting the box in his arms.

"Come with me." She then turned and headed into the school as if she owned it. Kurt and Blaine exchanged matching looks of confusion, before setting the boxes back into the car, locking it, and hurrying after the woman. She led them, much to their surprise, straight to the Warbler Hall.

"Grand-mére, what-?" Kurt began. It was a Saturday, after all; most of the guys were either at home, still asleep, or out with friends.

"Go in," was all she said. And with a final bemused glance, the couple pushed open the familiar double doors. To their shock, they found all of their fellow Warblers – dressed in casual attire, but still looking significantly spiffy – aligned at the back of the room, framed by the grand glass windows overlooking the courtyard, smiling at them. The second they appeared in the doorway, Nick began to play his guitar, seated on a stool near the left side of the group. The tune was slow, simple but sad.

And then David began to sing in his thick, deep voice.

_Oh I had a lot to say, was thinking on my time away _

_I missed you and things weren't the same _

Jeff took over, his voice rippling with the perfect amount of emotion. It was beautiful. Kurt could understand how he'd gotten that solo for Sectionals. He had the perfect balance between baritone and tenor.

_'Cause everything inside it never comes out right _

_And when I see you cry, it makes me want to die_

The rest of them joined in for the chorus, their voices raising in one harmonic, passionate sound. Kurt's hand found Blaine's. The dark-haired Warbler glanced to his boyfriend and noticed the water swimming in the brunette's eyes, but said nothing. They were both speechless.

_I'm sorry I'm bad, I'm sorry you're blue _

_I'm sorry about all things I said to you _

_And I know, I cant take it back. _

_I love how you kiss, I love all your sounds _

_And baby, the way you make my world go round _

_And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry _

Blaine wrapped a comforting arm around Kurt's shoulder, silently assuring him that it was okay to cry. He, himself, was having to blink rapidly in order to see his friends clearly through the haze of his tears. The younger boy leaned into him and pressed a hand to his mouth, although it was still clear that he was smiling affectionately at their performance. He spared a quick look at his grandmother, who nodded once. He understood. He understood what his grandmother was trying to tell him. _She'd done this. This is _her_ song to us._ His tears were not of regret, or sadness, or guilt; they were of love and joy.

Jeff and Nick did a duet for the next part, a remarkable blend of their two voices that balanced each other wonderfully.

_This time I think, I'm to blame _

_It's harder to get through the days _

_You get older and blame turns to shame _

_'Cause everything inside it never comes out right _

_And when I see you cry, it makes me want to die _

Kurt felt a small, warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to beam up at Madame, whose intense blue eyes were crinkled with her own smile. And, for the second – and probably last – time in her life, she allowed him to stain her scarf with tears, not minding that his hold on her dress was crinkling the fabric. She just stroked his soft hair and let him cry it out, nodding to Blaine over her grandson's bent head. Blaine grinned back at her. Despite the tears in his hazel eyes, he was ecstatic. They had made up. Madame Morreaux truly wanted to support them and their relationship. But more than that, she wanted to support _Kurt_. Nothing else mattered.

_I'm sorry I'm bad, I'm sorry you're blue _

_I'm sorry about all things I said to you_

_And I know, I cant take it back _

_I love how you kiss, I love all your sounds _

_And baby, the way you make my world go round _

_And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry _

Kurt pulled away when the song ended and burst into applause. Blaine and Madame were quick to follow his example.

"That was beautiful," Kurt breathed.

The elderly woman spoke up. "I cannot sing, myself – you got that from your Grand-pére – but I know that you like to communicate through songs, so I asked your friends here to express what I cannot. Which is that I am truly sorry. I cannot change the past, but I hope to make the future for you two brighter in any way I can."

Kurt bubbled with laughter and nodded. "You already have, Grand-mére...Merci beaucoup! This is- I mean, I can't believe you..."

Blaine decided to help him out. "It was really thoughtful of you to do all this. And thank _you, _guys!" he added to his friends, who all laughed and high-fived one another, as proud of themselves as if it was their plan all along. "That was incredible! Especially in such a limited amount of time..."

"We practiced all yesterday evening," Thad informed him proudly.

"I had to cancel my plans with my parents," Wes complained.

"But how-? I mean, what-?" Kurt failed in trying to finish a single one of the many questions buzzing around his head.

"Madame Morreaux asked me yesterday if we could help her," Wes explained. "She asked us to chose an apologetic song and to sing it for you two today at eleven."

"My knowledge of English songs is not very good," Madame confessed. "And I highly doubt they would have been able to memorize a French song overnight. You boys are good, but you are not _that_ good."

There was a smattering of laughter.

"I've never seen Wes that stressed before," Trent snickered conspiratorially to Jeff.

"I thought it was going to break his gavel," the blond agreed under his breath.

"Not my fault!" Wes defended. "If you guys would just _listen_ to my instructions-"

And off they went.

…

Kurt dropped the final box by the door just as Blaine finished making the bed up with fresh new sheets.

"Thanks for helping me move," Kurt sighed for the umpteenth time.

And for the umpteenth time, Blaine chuckled and said, "It's my pleasure! I'm at your disposal..." He glanced around at the sea of cardboard boxes, bags, and duffles. It had taken them all weekend, but they finally managed to get everything Kurt deemed necessary to have with him at Dalton from his house over to the dorms. "Are you sure all of this is going to fit?"

"Oh, I'll manage," Kurt smirked. "You don't have to help me unpack, though, I can do that myself."

"Are you sure? I'm free all evening," Blaine offered.

Kurt grinned, wrapped his arms lazily around his neck, and gave him a kiss that promised more later on. "All evening? Is that so...?"

Blaine grinned, knowing what he was suggesting. "Yes, _all_ evening..." Another kiss. But then he sighed and stepped back a little. "But your roommate will probably be back at any moment. I really don't think walking in on us making out is the best way to impress the guy."

Kurt swatted his arm playfully, but he knew he was right. He had been placed in a room with a fellow junior named Kevin, a sweet but shy boy, a bit on the geekier side. He had been Kurt's seat partner for a few weeks at the beginning of the semester in Chemistry, and was a fan of the Warblers – as was the vast majority of the school – so he had been more than happy to make room for him. He had stayed out of their way for the most part, preferring to spend his time down in the library, anyway.

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" Blaine offered yet again.

Kurt chuckled, pulling gently on the front of his shirt to draw him closer. "Well, you see, _want_ and _need_ are very different things, Blaine..." He let his lips ghost against his boyfriend's teasingly, tauntingly. "But no, I'll be fine. I want to get at least some of this unpacked before Kevin comes back."

"Alright." He stole another kiss. "But if you need me..." And another. "I'm just four doors down." And another. "Okay?"

Kurt was unable to respond, because his mouth was a little too busy latching itself to Blaine's.

And, of course, that was precisely when Kevin walked into the room.

"Oh, god! Sorry!" he squeaked, dropping his notes. He looked absolutely dumbfounded, as if he had never seen two boys kissing before. Which, valid, could have been the case. It wasn't like Ohio was really crawling with gay couples. "I- um, I was just- I mean, I should have-"

"Kevin, relax, relax!" Blaine soothed, flashing that winning smile of his. "I was just leaving. Don't worry." He pecked the deeply-blushing Kurt on the cheek and whispered, "See you tomorrow, love." And then, patting a paralyzed Kevin on the shoulder as he passed, he exited the room and made his way down the hallway towards his own.

"I, uh...sorry," Kurt apologized at last.

Kevin chuckled and seemed to snap out of his stock. "Don't be," he assured, smiling shyly as he settled himself at the end of his bed. "You guys are together, aren't you? You shouldn't apologize for that. I think it's really great. I was just- I mean, I guess I just forgot I had a roommate." Then, noticing Kurt's guilty expression, he quickly added, "Not that it's a bad thing! It's great! I mean, you're really awesome, and I really like your voice, and...Oh god, you must think I'm such a loser now." He buried his face in his notebook.

Kurt burst out laughing. He crouched down and began to withdraw his jeans from a duffle bag and place them in his wardrobe. "Not at all," he promised. "I'm sure you're a really cool guy."

Kevin practically glowed. Having a 'rock star' of Dalton call him – _him_, of all people! – cool was probably one of the greatest moments of his high school career.

This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

…

**And thus concludes this fanfiction!**

**I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! :D I'm so sorry for the godawful updating. It's totally understandable if you hate me right now. ;D But anywho. I want to thank every single of you for reading, favoriting, alerting, and most importantly, reviewing. Seeing those emails from in my inbox always makes me smile. :) YOU BE AWESOME! Fo sho. Review for the last chapter?**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	12. Chapter 12: Epilogue

**Lots of people seemed to really like Kevin, so I decided to add this extra little epilogue...Enjoy! And once again, thanks so much for all of your support. It means the world to me. I love you!**

…

It had been a week since Kurt moved into the dorms. Living only four doors down from his boyfriend was incredibly convenient, and consequently they began going out much more often. It became increasingly difficult to focus on their respective studies. One of them would sneak over to the other's room at all times of day, usually kicking out the roommate in the process. Well, more specifically, they would bluntly tell Jeff to go occupy himself elsewhere, whereas with Kevin all they needed to do was look at him at the same time and he would flee from the room, spluttering apologies in every direction.

"W-We should really...really study some more," Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips, making no move to actually follow up on this suggestion.

Blaine moaned, fingers running through those silky locks he loved so much, and pressed even closer. "It can wait..."

There was a timid knock on the door. They broke apart reluctantly.

"I- um, Kurt?" Kevin called from the other side nervously. The brunette in question suppressed a groan and sank back against the headrest. Blaine buried his head against his shoulder, both of them breathing a little heavily. _Again?_ "Uh, sorry, but I- I need to get my Calculus notebook..."

"He's got the worst timing in the world," Blaine grumbled.

Kurt chuckled and gently slid out from under his boyfriend so he could unlock the door. (Kevin had his key, of course, but he never used it.) It swung open to reveal an anxious little Kevin. He had very short but neat black hair, glasses, and twig-like limbs. He looked as though he feared Kurt was going to take a can of hairspray to his face. "Kev, you don't need to apologize! It's your room, too."

"Oh, well, yes, but, I mean, you two- and I'm just- It isn't really- I, um..."

Kurt just laughed and pushed him towards his desk. "Get your notebook, Kevin. Relax. It's not like we're defiling the room in your absence."

But the look they both shared behind Kevin's back told them that they both would be more than happy to do so, if only they were given the chance. They made out more times than they could count, but whenever it began to go further, _somebody_ would take it upon themselves to intrude. They were beginning to wonder if they'd _ever_ have more than a few minutes alone.

"I never thought you were!" he rushed to assure, flapping his hands a little in emphasis. "I totally trust you guys! I don't mind studying down in the library. I'm there most of the time anyway. You just...uh, enjoy!" And on that awkward note, he snatched up his thick black notebook and dashed out the door. Kurt closed it behind him, clearly amused.

"He may be a cock-block, but at least he's entertaining."

"Ku-urt," Blaine moaned, stretched out on Kurt's bed. The countertenor could not help but admire how hot that was. He had to resist pouncing on the shorter boy then and there. "Why don't we just move in together and make Jeff and Kevin room? It would make certain things so much easier..."

Kurt smiled understandingly and crawled up onto the bed with him. The older singer's arms seemed to fall around him so naturally that he probably could have done it in his sleep just as effortlessly. "I know, babe, I know." Kurt kissed his cheek, loving the fact that he could. That they were together. That Blaine was his. He doubted that revelation would ever get old. "But I think if we slept in the same room every night my grades would _really_ suffer...And then I'd get kicked out of Dalton, and then I'd have to go back to McKinley, and then...Well, you get the picture." _And then we'd be separated again._ He did not need to voice the main point, though. Blaine understood.

The curly-haired young man sighed melodramatically. "Yeah, I get it, I get it. Doesn't mean I have to like it though."

Kurt laughed and buried his face in his neck, tickling his throat with his eyelashes. "No, I don't either. We'll just have to deal with a dorm full of boys ready and waiting to interrupt our alone time." He tilted his head up to meet Blaine's awaiting mouth.

Blaine moaned into the kiss. "Don't you...Don't you have a Physics test tomorrow?"

Kurt crawled on top of him, practically straddling him, very much to Blaine's approval. He loved it when Kurt became predatory. "You're right, it can wait..." His hands slipped under Blaine's shirt, running along his abs, taunting him. The dark-haired Warbler clung to Kurt's shirt, refusing to let him move too far away. They were pressed so close together they seemed to mold into one entity.

And then...

_Knock, knock, knock._ "Hey, you guys in there? Wes just called an emergency meeting. Apparently our latest song needs desperate work. His words, not mine." There was a pause, then, "Guys? Hey, open up! We gotta go! Wes will probably give us concussions with his gavel if we're late."

Blaine was very close to telling Jeff precisely where Wes could shove that gavel of his.

…

**Loverly. NOW it's over for real ;D I would have posted this a couple days ago when I actually wrote it, but I'm currently college-touring and it's hard to find places with good enough Internet...*grumble grumble* But anyway. GOODBYE!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


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